What it means to be a big brother
by 42Lia
Summary: Scotland isn't known to be the best brother in the world. Quite the opposite. But what happens when he learns that his little brother has become the love interest of half the countries on the globe? A not too happy Scotty is the world's worse nightmare!
1. Chapter 1 Interesting News

What it means to be a big brother

**Interesting news**

"Hello?"

England heard some shouts and some wild laughs over his mobile phone before hearing the voice of an angry and frustrated man.

"Excuse me? Is this … um … who is this?"

Arthur's eyes widened at the question. Shouldn't he be the one asking that?

"I'm sorry but are you a friend of some blond Frenchman?" the voice continued.

Ah. So that's what happened. England sighed.

"Yes I am. (sadly enough) What has Francis done now?"

"Well, him and his two friends are trashing my pub just now. Do you think you could come and pick them up? He says he wants his … um … 'petit lapin' to pick him up. When I looked at his phone record, I found your number under that name."

England mentally cursed. What the hell was the frog thinking? Saving his number under that silly nickname Francis always liked to call him when he was young! England swore he'll touch a word to France as soon as he's sober … a touch with a punch! Just to be sure he gets it!

England thought for a minute. He had a meeting in the next 25 minutes and he wouldn't be able to both take care of that drunken trio and go to the meeting. Although England would love to leave those idiots to their craziness, he felt sorry for the owner of the bar.

"Alright, I'll get someone to pick them up. May I have your address, please?"

After noting down the address, England phoned his older brother. It's a good thing he's in England right now because of the world conference taking place there this week. Usually, he would let England deal with it when abroad but he'd always show up (even if it was just to hang out at the pub and not at the meeting) when it took place in the UK, in London.

"Allo? England?" a rough and gruffly voice answered.

"Hello. You're still in London?"

"Aye, why?"

"Scott, could you do me a favor?"

There was a silence on the other side of the line. Yes, that was very, very, extremely rare for England to ask a favor from anyone but even more so from his older brothers.

"Must be damn important. Ask away!"

"France, Spain and Prussia are wrecking pubs across London. The owner of the last one phoned me to pick them up but I have a meeting in just 20 minutes so could you take care of it for me … please."

Again, another long silence before Scotland burst in laughers.

"That's all? I thought you were dyin' or somethin'! Aye! I'll take care of Frenchie and the other two! Ye owe me one and I won't let ye forget! Have fun at yer meetin'!"

"Yeah, thanks. Bye."

"Cheerio!"

And with that England hung up. He cursed for a minute wondering if it had been wise to call Scotland for that. America was too much of an idiot and anyway, he'd rather owe Scotland than America anytime. Alfred might ask something weird in return like a lunch at his disgusting fast foods! At least with Scott, he'll end up with … with what? Shit. He couldn't even imagine what Scott might ask of him! That was not a good sign. Well … it's not like anyone one else could deal with all three idiot drunk at once. And Scotland knows London better than the other countries so …

England sighed as he picked up his case and left for his meeting. Hopefully, he won't have to regret his decision.

" … Looking sick and sexy fine! So let's go oh oh! Let's go!

Tonight we're going hard hard hard hard hard hard!

Just like the world is ours ours ours ours ours ours!

We're tearing it apart part part part part part!

You know we're superstars! We are who we are! …"

Scotland could hear the three drunken he was meant to collect singing as he got out of his car.

"Can't they at least sing in tune?" he mumbled as the singing grew louder.

When he entered the pub, Scotland barely took notice of the devastated state of it and instead scans the place, looking for his parcel. He saw one piece of it crawling under a table with a wide grin, top less and the rest of his clothes soaked in alcohol, his green eyes gazing into nothingness, and singing while using his empty bottle of wine like a microphone. Another part of Scotland's parcel was dancing on top of the bar, a bottle of beer in each hand, naked with only his boxers left on and his tie tied around his forehead in the midst of his now messy, dirty, silver hair. Finally the last piece of his trio collection, the blond man with a small beard on his chin was lying flat on one of the tables, giggling madly in the midst of his singing, completely naked (yes, without the boxers) and waving around an empty bottle of champagne. One, two, and three … yep, that's all of them. Scotland was about to fetch his required parcel for England when a man hiding behind the bar called for him.

"Are you 'petit lapin'?"

Scotland blinked at him. He understood the French word but … he didn't quite get why this man was calling him a 'little rabbit'.

"I'm sorry?"

"Aren't you the man I talked on the phone with?" the other guy pleaded.

Oh! So that's what he meant! 'Petit lapin'! Yeah, that sounds like something France would call England. Scotland grinned at the thought of England's face when he must have heard that name during the phone call.

"Nah, I'm tha lapin's older brother! He was caught up in a meetin' and asked me ta help him out."

"I'm glad! Could you please get rid of them!" the man almost begged. He looked terrified and was especially scared of the mad Prussian prancing around in his pub, smashing everything. If you think that's bad, go take a look at a Scottish bar in Glasgow, mate! Especially when Rangers are playing Celtic! Now that's a sight of hell!

"Aye! I'll take care of it!" Scotland reassured the Londoner before heading for Antonio.

Scott pulled the Spaniard from under the table and dragged him outside. He left him rolling around on the pavement as he went back in to collect the other two. He managed to drag first France then Prussia (it was harder to get him out) out of the pub to join Spain outside who was grinning while staring at the starless, clouded sky. The owner thanked Scotland as he was throwing the three dumbasses in the back of his car. And they were off; heading for the hotel that was book by England for the world's other countries during their stay for the conference. Scotland had decided to book in another hotel and thus avoiding all those idiots he wanted to avoid. He knew he could have stayed at England's but there's no way that would happen!

Scotland stopped at a red light and glanced at the loud still singing idiots at the back through his retro mirror. Suddenly, out of the blues, France seemed to notice that they weren't in the pub anymore (took him that long to realize?). He fidgeted, looking around for a familiar face and when he saw Scotland, a frown appeared on his half-conscious face.

"Scoooott? Où eeeessssttt mon lapiiiiin!" (Scott? Where's my rabbit?) Francis asked with a rusty voice. Good thing Scotland understood French. It helps that he had once been in an alliance with the frog.

"He's at a meetin' so I'm takin' you back ta tha hotel."

"Quooooiiii! J'veeeeuuuuux moooonnnn laaaapiiiiin!" (What? I want my rabbit!) Francis started crying like a spoiled child asking for his favourite toy.

"Well, he ain't comin'a'right! Deal with it, frog!"

"T'eeeesss paaaaas sympaaaaaa, Scoooott!" (You're mean, Scott!)

"Aye, whatever you say Francis."

Suddenly, Spain started to whine too. He had caught up with what was said as he was coming back to reality and leaving dreamland for drunks.

"Arturooooo! ¿Pooooor quééééééé no estáááááááá aquí! Mi tomaaaaaaate encantadooooor!" (Arthur! Why isn't he here! My lovely tomato!)

'Lovely tomato'? What the fuck was the Spanish bastard talking about? Scotland wondered as the light turned green and he drove off. He had learnt Spanish when Arthur was fighting against Spain during the 16th century. Although it didn't concern him at the time, Spain still was the leading Empire of that century. And even if Scotland would never admit it, he was worried a tiny wee bit about his little brother at the time. But it turned out alright with Arthur beating the crap out of Spain. Scotland decided to ignore the complaining Latins until Gilbert joined the party.

"Waaaaas? Arthur ist niiiiicht gekommeeeen? Waaaaas machteeeer? Der awesoooome ich auf ihn gewarteeeet! Nicht awesooooome!" (What? Arthur didn't come? What is he doing? The awesome me waited for him! Not awesome!) he shouted to the world to hear. "Wooooooo ist mein Vögelchen?" (Where's my little birdie?)

'Little birdie'? Did they all have ridiculous nicknames for Arthur? Scotland also learned German through the two world wars. He grunted. That job was more of a pain in the ass than he had thought. He's going to make Arthur pay him back twice for that! What should he ask him anyway?

Scotland was caught short in his train of thought when they arrived at the hotel. The trio was still moaning, complaining, shouting, arguing, insulting, and whatever else drunken people do. They kept talking about England which slightly peaked Scotland's curiosity … and kind of pissed him off.

It was getting late and Scotland had to bring up to their individual rooms the three drunkheads. It mostly went well, apart from the time wasting and the annoying complaints of the trio. What was wrong with them anyway? Since when was it a law that Arthur had to be the one to take them back to the hotel. If Arthur really was the one who always had to get them all out of the pub each time they get drunk then Scotland will have to congratulate him for not having killed any of them yet. He was now leading France to his room, since the other two were now already in bed.

"A'right Francis, we're here. Gimme yer keys."

But Francis just stared dully at his friend. His eyes seemed a bit sad and his face looked really attractive and sexy when he didn't have that pervert smile. It always surprised Scotland at how different France could look sometimes. Unlike Arthur who tended to look cute no matter his mood (at least in Scotland's opinion!), his moody personality actually brought up his cuteness and sexiness. England always looked attractive (in Scotland's opinion! Aye, he's really proud of his wee brother, but won't ever tell him that) but his change of mood made him sexy in various ways. While Francis was more of … how can he phrase it? France was just so often showing his annoying self that when he actually acted not like a pervert it was hard to recognise him. Scotland waited for France to answer him but instead, he went on a different topic.

"Why does Arthur hate me?"

Scotland didn't know what to say. He could think of many reasons why Arthur should hate France (and just as many for himself) but he knew that his brother didn't hate the Frenchman (although Arthur would never admit that he thought of Francis as a friend) and neither did Scotland. Well, Scotland didn't really hate anyone … except maybe America. He got pissed by people (mostly England) but he never hated them truly. Scotland thought about the best way to phrase his answer.

"Arthur didn't come today because he hates you, he just couldn't come."

Francis' face immediately lightened up … a bit too much for Scotland's taste.

"But that doesn't change the fact that he hates you." Scotland said in a rush as if wanting to prevent something. He didn't know why he said that but he felt relieved when Francis' face darkened again.

"C'mon! Let's get you to bed! Keys?"

Francis handed the keys over and in a half conscious state, let the Scotsman lead him inside his room. He mumbled in French to himself and Scotland lent his ear to the depressed blond.

"Why does he hate me … Does he like someone else? Maybe Antonio? Yeah, probably Antonio. That tomato idiot is always teasing him around to get Arthur's attention … and Gilbert always hangs out with him for beers … maybe it's him … no, it has to be that stupid America! Arthur is always too indulgent with that bastard! And there's Japan too … there really close friends … too close … or China … they even have Hong Kong to link them … yeah, China obviously likes him … why … can't he be mine? Even Russia finds him interesting … that's because he doesn't get scared in front of him but … why are all those bastards around him … and him … who is it he loves …?"

Scotland's eyes widened as the Frenchman dropped dead on his bed and his mumbling turned into snoring. So, that's why? Since when has his little brother become so popular? And with boys none the less! Scotland felt something strange awaken in him, something he hadn't felt in many years.

So, they were all after his precious little brother? Well, that didn't sound too well to Scotland's ears. Maybe he would go to the world conference for once. After all … he wants to meet all the bastards targeting his family. And explain them the rules … his rules.


	2. Chapter 2 World Conference

What it means to be a big brother

**World conference**

"What?"

Arthur Kirkland was standing outside his house, staring in astonishment at the metal blue car in front of him and its red headed driver. Scotland grinned at his brother, a cigarette in his mouth, his as messy as his brother's, blazing hair falling slightly in front of his eyes (he should get his hair cut soon) and his sparkling emerald eyes were laughing at his brother's. The blond Brit didn't know what to think of his older brother's sudden, strange behaviour.

"I said: I'll drive ye ta tha conference since I'm goin' too!" Scotland repeated with a sneaky smile. He found his brother's shocked face so cute, he could barely hold back his laughter. Arthur shook his head before getting in next to his brother with a shrug. Whatever the reason behind Scotland's behaviour, Arthur didn't mind the offer.

"Fine. Let's go. But don't try to play any weird trick on me, alright?"

Scotland grinned.

"What are ye talkin' 'bout?" he asked with an innocent tone. He knew he wouldn't fool England with that and got himself a scolding glare. Oh, well! It didn't matter whatever suspicion Arthur had, Scott was going to that conference and that was absolute!

The room fell silent, even the air seemed still, as Scotland entered the conference room behind Arthur. Everyone's stare was on the two British brothers. Some countries were wondering who that scary looking person was; others were wondering what the hell was England's scary brother even doing here when he usually never comes to conferences; and finally some wondered if they should leave the place now or after Scotland starts trashing everything. Scotland sat down next to England at the round table where America usually sits. With Scotland on his left and Ireland on his right, Arthur suddenly felt as though his brothers were toying with his nerves. Ireland's presence also was a surprise. Ireland usually never shows up if the world conference is held in the UK and would usually send Northern Ireland in his place. Not only did he come but he also took his seat next to England (were usually sits France or Prussia). And now, the three of them were arguing with each other as if it were the most natural thing in the world! (which it was! Those three always end up arguing if not fighting when together) England was getting annoyed and wanted to know what his two brothers were up to but Scotland claimed that he just wanted to participate in today's conference while Ireland just said that North was busy with her own country and so he had to come himself.

"But why the hell are you both sitting next to me?" asked England with an exasperated tone.  
"Aren't we allowed to sit next to our little brother?" the other two replied instantly and in perfect synchronisation. They both stared at one another with surprise and England was now seriously worried about their mental health.

"Since when do you two agree with each other? And anyway, since when do you even care about me? Last time I checked, you were both mad at me for some reason or another!" England asked in shock.

But Ireland and Scotland were now glaring at each other. Since they both have this brotherly overprotective attitude although they never show it, it causes them to be rivals at it sometimes, especially concerning England or Northern Ireland. England noticed their glares and sighted. At least, with him between them, they wouldn't be able to fight. He looked around and noticed everybody was silently looking at the animosity between his brothers with scared faces. England was thinking of calming them down when America made his grand entrance.

"The hero's here!"

People stared in shock at the American as he pounced on England with a grin. Hadn't he noticed the tension that was going on?

"Get off me, you bloody git!"

"You're mean England! I was just saying 'hi'!" Alfred said in a whining voice. England rolled his eyes and tapped the man's arm around him.

"Alright! 'Hello America'. Happy? Now let go! You're late and the conference was about to start!"

"But it's not my fault! The traffic at your place is all weird! How do people drive on the wrong side of the road anyway? And when I was looking for a taxi, I couldn't find any but then I remembered that your taxis weren't yellow but black! It's weird! Why black? It's gloomy! Oh and the hotel food was impossible to eat and …" Alfred rambled on, still clinging on to a very pissed England but not as pissed as his two neighbours. Scotland and Ireland were glaring at the obnoxious American with deep hatred.

"If yer goin' ta complain so much 'bout it, why don't ye just go back ta yer own continent? It'll make this conference a lot easier not ta have yer constant fuckin' opinion and dumb ideas." Scott snapped at Alfred.

Both England and America looked at the red haired man with surprise. Arthur never expected Scott to take his defence. Alfred was just surprise to see him at the conference and was wondering who the hell he was.

"Er … so, who're you?" he asked sheepishly, trying to look cute. It didn't look cute at all in Scotland's deadly glare. But before he could answer, Arthur had given his ex – colony an elbow blow in the stomach, cutting America's breath but not hurting him.

"America … If you're going to a meeting, you should at least know the host of the meeting."

"B – but aren't you the h – host?" America asked out of breath.

"You're in London, yes, but this meeting is organised not by England but by the UK. Besides, you shouldn't ask silly questions in front of Scotland … he might get mad at you." Arthur replied as he was now looking through his notes, glad to have been able to prevent America from getting a beating by his brother. He waited for America to sit down before starting his opening speech but Alfred just stood there, like an idiot, staring at Scotland.

"Alfred! For goodness' sake, sit down so we can start!" Arthur scolded.

"But … he's in my seat." Alfred answered, pointing at a disinterested Scotland who was smoking his cigarette with a mocking grin.

"Then take another seat! Hurry up, will you! You're wasting everyone's time!"

"But … I won't be next to you."

"So? Does it matter? Just sit down already!"

Alfred felt Arthur's anger rise and decided it was best to do what he was told. He didn't want to make England get mad at him. He went to sit next to his brother Canada and saw a satisfied smile on Scotland's lips. 'What the hell?' he thought as he sat down and England started the conference.

The conference went surprisingly well. Scotland and Ireland behaved themselves and didn't start any fight and sometimes even prevented fights by scaring the shit out the other nations. America shouted his usual comments but he wasn't being contradicted by England (like he usually is) but by Scotland. The ginger haired man clearly made America uncomfortable and would speak so aggressively that it somehow quietened the loud and talkative American. In fact, only few nations were able to keep up with Scotland's strong willed opinions and debating skills, and that would be: England (but since they were both representing the UK and had a common interest, he wouldn't argue with him but would instead try to calm him down as to not scare away everyone); Ireland (who would argue for the sake of disagreeing with Scotland and England); France (who always was a strong debating nation. Yes, he could be very serious and convincing when he worked and wasn't flirting); Germany (who could keep up with the arguing countries while giving his own point of view); Prussia (because he was so awesome, although Germany was the one with the actual facts and arguments) and strangely enough Italy managed to squeeze in some "Pasta" here and there, although, it still isn't sure if he was following what was going on or not.

By lunch break, almost all the nations ran to the exit and away from their hosts. Arthur sighted loudly and leaned forwards, his face on the table. This meeting was the most tiring he has ever had yet! Arthur suddenly felt his chair move backwards as Scotland kicked the back feet of it and held the chair so that England's body was shifted backwards and leaning against the back of it. England lifted his head and their identical emerald eyes gazed in one another.

"What now?" the younger brother asked exhausted. Scott grinned like a malicious child.

"I'm gettin' tired of tha meetin'! Let's hit tha pub and grab a drink!"

"It's lunch, not drinking time! Don't you dare get drunk if you want me to let you in for the second part of the meeting!"

"Aye! Promise I won't! Now, let's go! We'll grab some rolls for lunch at the bar or somethin'! Ye have those in London, righ'?"

"Yes, we do."

"Brilliant! C'mon! I'm starvin'!" Scott let go of the chair and Arthur moved back forward in the chair's original position. He got up and under his brother's urgent "C'mon!", "I'm hungry!", "Hurry up, Artie!" he exited the room.

Scotland smiled and when they were both half way down the stairs he stopped, claimed he had forgotten to tell Francis something and ran back to the conference room, leaving Arthur waiting for him downstairs in the hall. When he got back to the room, he noticed the trio he had taken care of yesterday, the American bastard, Canada (but Scotland liked his wee Canada who had once been his colony even before France and was much sweeter than his loud brother), the two Italian twins, China, Japan, Germany and Russia. Aye, basically the ex – axis and ex – allies. There also was a few others like India, Pakistan, Indonesia, Norway, Denmark, Netherlands, Belgium, Hungary, Austria, Switzerland, Greece (still asleep at his seat) and finally the two Koreas, Taiwan and Thailand. A bunch of annoying bastards and some of them are hanging around his wee brother too much! Scotland smirked as he came back in and everyone turned back to him with confused and anguish faces.

"A'right! Yesterday, I took care of those three drunken bastards and I heard some interesting things from them!" he stated as an explanation for his presence.

Everyone looked at the bad touch trio who looked at each other, wondering what the hell they could have told Scotland. Scotland's grin grew wider.

"I've heard tha me wee brother has become quite popular! So? Who're tha nations wantin' ta fuck him?" he asked as if asking about the weather.

His eyes looked at his audience, carefully taking in all of their expressions. He saw many of them blush madly (it didn't please him), some blush more lightly but with the same look in their eyes (no good either), some surprised and confused and finally, Belgium, Hungary and Taiwan became over excited and switched into Yaoi Fan Girl mode (creepy).

"Wha … what are you talking about, Scotland?" Canada finally dared asking in the silence of the room.

"Nothin' more than I said. I want to know which of ye all are tryin' ta get Artie in thar bed!"

"I don't think anyone would …"

"I ken there's France, Spain, Prussia, American Bastard, China, Japan, maybe Russia …" Scotland started to enumerate on his fingers. As they were being named, each of those nations blushed even more to the point that the room looked like a bowl of ripe tomatoes. "Now, from what I can see here … I can add Italy South, Italy North, Austria, Germany, Netherlands, India and Norway. A'right! Did I miss anyone?" the red haired man asked brightly.

All the nations went quiet.

"Nay? Good! All the others leave! Tha ones I named, stay!" Scott ordered and everyone obeyed.

The countries remaining were now staring at Scotland, anxious. The island nation smirked devilishly and shot them a dark glare.

"Let me be clear, a'right? If ye want me brother … ye'll have ta work hard ta get him! I won't let anybody get close ta him an' then break his 'eart! Ye hear?"

"I would never do that to him!" America said confidently (well, more confidently than the others, which wasn't that hard considering the circumstances).

Scotland's eyes locked on the loud mouthed American and his smirk twisted with hate.

"Yer out. Whatever ye do, ye can't have Arthur."

"What? Why? Dude, you can't do that!"

"Aye, I can! Ye already broke me wee brother's 'eart once! I won't let ye do it again!"

"Are you talking about that independence thing? That was ages ago!"

"Aye! But grudges last long! Dya ken how much Artie cried 'cause of ye? Ye ungrateful brat!"

"Well, you're not the perfect brother either from what I heard! I heard you and your brothers always bullied Arthur when he was small!"

"Nah! We just teased him. Then we got inta wars but we ain't have a choice in tha. Don't talk 'bout stuff ye don't ken!"

"I don't see why I'm included in this group! I have absolutely no feelings for that opium bastard!" China stated in the midst of it all. Scotland eyed him suspiciously before smiling.

"Keep tellin' ye tha an' it might come true! As long as ye don't get too close ta Arthur, I don't care!"

China felt his face grow redder.

"I, too, disagree with your judgement! I am most definitely not in love with England!" Germany said as he recovered from the shock.

"Me neither." Austria followed.

"I hate you all, British bastards! How could you think that I love England?" India shouted with anger.

"Shut the fuck up! I do not love England dammit!" Romano yelled in a girlish voice and a bright red face while his brother was fidgeting nervously making little "Ve~" noises.

"Humph! Don't know what you're talking about." Netherlands said but his ears were crimson red.

Norway and Japan both had the most flushed faces of them all and didn't speak a word.

"Love? I'm not sure what that is but I do feel strange around England …" Russia mused his face slightly pink but with an unusually trembling voice.

"A'right! Shut the fuck up, all o' ye! I don't care if ye want ta deny it or nay! All I care 'bout is Arthur's 'eart! The mother fucker who dares to play with me brother's feelin's and makes 'im cry 'll be found dead tha next mornin'! Ye got tha?" Scott shouted across the room with anger.

Everybody fell silence until Veneziano finally spoke.

"Ve~ But I won't ever break Arthur's heart. I love Arthur. I don't want to hurt him or make him cry."

"Yer a good lad but ye'll hav' ta prove it." Scott replied, a bit calmed down. He smirked again. "But anyhow, ye all have ta get through me an' the others ta get me wee Artie!" he laughed.

That's when the door of the room slammed open and an angry Arthur glared inside.

Arthur's eyes locked on their prey and he walked over and grabbed Scott by the collar of his shirt. Behind the doors, the nations could see Belgium, Hungary, Taiwan, Pakistan and Canada spying. They had been listening behind the door the whole time until England arrived.

"How long does it take to just 'tell something to France'? Bloody hell! I've been waiting downstairs for almost a half hour! We'll never get the bloody lunch at that fucking pace! What the fuck are you doing? And why are you scaring the shit out those fucking idiots? If you start another fucking war again I'll …"

"Aye! I ken! Sorry, laddy! Promise I won't start a fucking war!"

"Aye! Ye fuckin' better not, bloody bastard!"

"Yer startin' ta sound like me! Where's yer polite Queen's English gone, Artie?" Scott laughed.

"It's fucked at the pub along with my bloody patience!" Arthur answered getting more and more pissed.

"Better join them then, eh?"

"Aye." Arthur agreed but kept glaring at his smiling brother.

All the other nations were staring at Arthur in shock. He never lost his cool like that with them, nor did he start talking with an accent. The two brothers left while they switched from English to old Celt and then nobody understood them (except France and Prussia a bit but they still had to concentrate).

The two brothers seemed to share a strange relationship. Scott was now teasing Arthur who started throwing punches at his brother who then threw his own punches back and for some reason they both burst out laughing as they kept punching each other until they reached the pub.

The nations in the conference room and the others spying where still under the shock. But more importantly … Scotland was not to be messed with!


	3. Chapter 3 Lunch with Big Brother

What it means to be a big brother

**Lunch with Big Brother**

! For understanding purposes, this conversation shall be translated from Old Scott / Old English / Gaelic / Irish / Old Celt into normal, modern English. !

"So? What were you talking about with those wankers?"

"Nothing much."

Arthur eyed his brother critically. Scott wore a Cheshire-like smirk on a peaceful expression which was never a good sign.

"I really can't believe that."

"Tough."

"Whatever you're planning, please do not involve me or cause me more trouble! I don't want to fix up the mess you make!"

"Hm mm."

Arthur sighted as he rubbed his fingers against his closed eyes.

"And why is HE here?" he asked, still not opening his eyes.

Scott glanced over to Arthur's other neighbour and smirked.

"Don't know. Ask him."

"Patrick, why are you here?" Arthur asked with slight irritation in his voice.

The Irish man gulped yet another beer before grinning to his annoyed little brother.

"Why not? Do I need a reason to have a drink in a pub? I wanted beer."

"I meant: Why are you HERE."

"Here?"

"HERE! Both of you actually! Why are you both following me around since the beginning of the day?" Arthur replied loudly as he snapped his eyes open and glared at his two drinking neighbours. The two red-head smiled knowingly as they sipped their drinks, promptly ignoring the raging of the younger one. Arthur groaned and drank his beer down as if to it would solve all his problems. It didn't as he almost chocked himself to death when Scott spoke up.

"Don't get all worked up over that, Artie! Me and Patrick just wanted to spend a bit of quality, family time with you."

"Wh-what?" Arthur coughed.

"He's right. I came today because Scotty phoned me earlier. Said you seemed to be having some troubles lately. So here we are!"

"What?"

"Have you forgotten all other words or are programed? Hey! Another whisky, please!"

"And a beer!"

"What?"

"I think we might have hit the wrong button."

"Yeah. He looks stuck on 'what' motion."

"Wha- … Please tell me you both hit your head somewhere."

"Nope, why?"

"Not that I know of."

Arthur stared in utter shock. Okay, his _brothers_ are _wanting_ to spend _family_ time with _him_? Maybe there will be the end of the world in 2012. By the looks of it, it might not last until December.

"Artie, you look like you just witnessed the end of the world."

"Not yet. But I'm seriously considering it might end soon."

"Now, don't make it sound like we're careless, horrible, insensitive brothers! Of course we'd worry about you!" Patrick laughed as he circled Arthur's shoulders in one of his large arms.

"… I dreaming, right? This is not real."

"Course it's real! Now you're starting to sound like we raised Hell!" Scott grinned as he sipped his whisky. Arthur shook his head and tried really, really hard to accept the fact that his brother are … apparently … worried about … him. Worried about him … … … Nope. No matter how, this just doesn't sound right. Alright, maybe Northern Ireland or Wales would worry and that he could accept but not Scotland or Ireland. No, that's inconceivable! And yet … they were … so it seemed.

"Fine. Let's assume that you are worried." Arthur sighted in defeat. "What troubles are you referring to? I don't remember mentioning anything to you Scott, about anything. Even if I had troubles, which I don't … well, not more than the usual, I would most definitely _not_ tell _you_!"

Scott and Patrick exchanged a knowing glance and that just raised Arthur's anticipated panic level to its summit.

"Oh, you didn't but I heard from a reliable source that you were in _big _trouble."

"Reliable source …? Who might that be?" Arthur frowned in confusion.

"Tut tut! My secret intelligence shall not be revealed." Scott grinned while poking Arthur's forehead like one would for a child.

"Uh? Care to explain?" Arthur asked the beer lover next to him. Patrick just shrugged but the glint in his eyes showed that he knew more than he said.

"You are both impossible! Fine! I don't care what you're planning but just don't cause me extra work! I don't want to get involved!"

"You won't be. Not involved in anything and _anyone_. I guarantee!" Scott replied casually but Arthur noticed his eyes darkened for a few seconds before turning back to normal. Patrick nodded and a firm expression covered his usual cheerful grin. Now Arthur was worried. Whatever his brothers were planning, it would not end well.

"Fine, just do what you want! Bloody idiots … I have to go now to prepare for the second part of the conference. Get back to the meeting room before 2:30 and DO NOT get drunk!"

"Aye Aye Captain!" Scott laughed with a salute. Arthur rolled his eyes but a small smile floated on his lips as he left the pub.

"Did you get any names?"

"Aye. A few. The three buggers from last night, the Axis and Allied weirdoes and some extra ones like India, Norway and … oh, yeah, the guy with a pipe!"

"A pipe? You mean Netherlands?"

"Yeah! That's the one!"

"Netherlands? Seriously? I would never have thought he would be interested in Artie. Nor India. Maybe Norway but still."

"I got a bit surprised too but it was pretty clear from their reaction."

"This is weird."

"I know. Who would have thought our cute little brother would cause such a mess … and he doesn't even notice it!"

"Yeah. I mean, I always knew he was good-looking … he looks like mum so much and she was quite a beauty …"

"Aye, that she was …"

"But still … Artie's got an awful temper! And he gets all moody."

"We all do, Pat. You, me, Connor, Fiona and Artie … we all do."

"Yeah and we're all single! That's my point!"

"Maybe but you have to admit we don't interact much with other countries. You might, I don't know. But for the rest of us, we leave Artie deal with foreign affairs."

"Why do you let him?"

"Cause it looks frustrating, bothersome and a whole lot of work! Especially if I had to deal with the American bastard."

"You're still mad at him? That independent thing was ages ago. You know Arthur got over that a long time ago. He's fine."

"He may be fine but I'm not! You weren't there! You didn't see … what I saw."

"… No. I didn't."

They both stayed silent, lost in their memories. When Scott spoke up again, his voice was low and painful, almost a whisper.

"I don't want to see him like that _ever_ again."

"…"

"He … looked like … when mother died."

Patrick nearly dropped his glass and his eyes widened as he stared at a very depressed Scotland. He placed a comforting hand on the Scotsman but didn't find any words to say. What was there to say? They both knew what had happened when Rome took away their little brother. They were there and couldn't do anything. Scotland blamed himself the most for what had happened then. Arthur was never the same when he came back. And when he did come back and was told that their mother had died by the hands of Rome … his expression was … … Patrick shivered. He never wanted to see that face on Arthur ever again.

"That's why …"

The Irishman turned his attention back to his mumbling brother. Scott's eyes were clouded with fear and sorrow.

"That's why I can't let them … not again …"

"… Don't worry, Scotty. We won't let them hurt him. I promise."

"If it was just war, it'd be simpler. We'd all fight together. We'd argue strategies. Wales would suggest we burn the hell out of them with his dragon, North would curse them … and you until they all drop dead, I would just propose we smash them all like the old times and England would bring reason in this chaos by telling us that in modern days we do not use magic or smash things up like that! We'd always get on his nerves. But … he'd still smile at times. Despite the war and pain. He'd smile for Fiona to reassure her. He'd smile to Connor to encourage him. And … he'd smile to me to … thank me."

"… I know."

"How the bloody hell would you know? You left, remember?"

"I remember. But I know that Arthur always kept a thanking smile for you. Not anyone else. Just you."

Scott lifted doubtful eyes and met the determined, honest ones of his brother.

"I remember when you two fought in the past. And I remember him crying. He hated you and yet he loved you. I could see his heart being torn apart."

"You're just inventing this shit."

"No. I'm not. And I know you felt the same."

"How would you know."

"I can see it your eyes. Both of you. You scream at each other silently and yet you smile."

Scotland stared at his empty glass. He felt so depressed he wanted to drink until he would forget all about this. But he had promised Arthur he wouldn't get drunk today. So he wouldn't. Patrick smiled tenderly and punched his younger brother lightly on the shoulder.

"Come on! Cheer up! We're all fine now! All we need to do is make sure nobody breaks Arthur again. I'm sorry about America. I didn't know …"

"I bet you didn't. America was his first. He had never had someone to take care of before … well, except Fiona but she's an exception. He got too attached to the boy. He was too … human with him."

"… I see. That would be tough. Nations know by nature that they can't attach themselves to much to others. We change sides constantly. That's why love between two nations often ends up badly. I heard from Austria that Italy was destroyed when he heard of Holly Roman Empire's death. Arthur should have known better."

"He should have. I taught him personally not to trust others. Our wars weren't for the fun of it! We fought as nations! We had to forget our feelings and fight for our people! So why did he let that brat in his heart? Fucking hell! Why?"

"Calm down, Scott. I know you're angry but it's fine now. And Arthur learned his lesson."

"Maybe … maybe not. He's naïve enough to let someone in again."

"And that's why we're here. Honestly, I was surprised by your call. You never call me."  
"And I wouldn't have if I could avoid it. But Connor and Fiona would be too concerned about Artie. I don't want to worry them."

"Aren't you the perfect big brother?"

"Well, you clearly are not so I have to be."

Patrick smiled sadly.

"I'm sorry. I know I left you all."

"It's fine. We're nations. We do what the people want. That's all there is to it. Personal feelings … are to be kept locked."

"… Still, sometimes I wish we were humans. We could have been a happier family. Less violence, less bloodshed, less betrayal and less pain."

"But we're not."

"You say that but look how worried you are about Artie. You always worry about him."

"Not always."

"Always. Maybe not your people. But you do."

"… maybe."

Patrick placed his glass back on the counter and nudged his brother.

"Come on! Artie will get mad at us if we're late!"

"Aye. I bet he's trying to keep everyone in order right now! He'll probably need help!" Scott laughed and they both headed back to the conference.


	4. Chapter 4 All's fair in Love and War

What it means to be a big brother

**All's fair in Love and War**

_**The three brothers are having (drinks) lunch. In the meanwhile …**_

"Fuck! What's his problem?"

"Forget it Amérique. Scott is always like that. You just get used to him."

"You seem to know him quite well, France-san."

"Oui … We had an alliance for quite a while. That was before he joined Angleterre and created the UK. We were good friends but we'd argue quite a lot too. Now, I don't see him much anymore."

"Then maybe you could tell him that all this was just a misunderstanding."

"I'd like to, Austria, but when Scotland gets an idea in his head, it's nearly impossible to change his mind. He's convinced that we all want to sleep with my little Angleterre. Well, it's obvious that I do but I didn't think others would too."

France noticed the raising blushes on the other nations' faces. Why hadn't he noticed this sooner? He was the country of love and yet, it just completely passed him. He probably was too busy looking at Angleterre to notice. Yes, that must be the reason!

America slammed his fist against the lunch table that was way too small for the number of people around it.

"Okay! So I like England! What's the big deal! It's not like I was going to tell him … yet. I wanted to wait until he stopped acting like a big brother with me! He's always treating me like a kid!"

"That's because you are a kid, aru."

"I'm not! I can blow you up in a snap, China!"

"What, with your poor economy right now? I'm the emerging leading power, America! Soon, you'll have to listen to me!"

"So what if you've bought all the gold in the world! You're still a stupid Commie! Just like Russia!"

"Excuse me but I am no longer communist, America. And I would like it if you remembered that fact. Da?"

"Don't compare me to that freak, aru! My system is nothing like his! And it'll last much longer than his USSR!"

"Yao Yao, no political system lasts forever. You should learn from my mistakes. Da?"

"Why the fuck are we talking about politics when we were meant to discuss shit-beard's psycho friend! If you want fucked up politics, go take a look at Italy! Dammit!"

"Veee~ Fratello! Don't shout like that! It's scary!"

"Kesese! The little Italian finally snapped!"

"Gilbert, stop teasing Loviiii! It's okay, Lovi~ I'm sure your government will work out one day!"  
"Shut up, bastard! I don't want your fucking pity!"

"Everyone just shut up already! We can't solve this issue if you all go about whatever business you have on your own! Bruder! Stop causing me more trouble!"

"Noisy."  
"I agree with you Norway. I really don't see why I'm involved with all those idiots."

"That's because you like England, India."

"Pakistan, if you don't stop talking nonsense, I swear, I'm going to kill you, fucking Muslim!"

"Oh, I'm scared! I thought we agreed that religion was not a valid argument!"

"It is when you piss me off!"

"You're so childish. No wonder England doesn't look at you."

"Say that again, bastard!"

"Pl-please everyone … calm down, eh!"

"… they didn't notice you."

"I know Kumajiro. But I still have to try."  
"… Who are you again?"

"(sigh) I'm Canada."

"Ah."

The polar bear nodded but the next second, completely forgot his master's name … and existence … again. All the gathered nations around the too small table were now yelling and fighting in the coffee/tea shop. Other customers were staring at the riot with frightened expressions and most of them realised that they suddenly had an important appointment and left in a hurry before the fighting could escalate even more. Hungary, Taiwan and Belgium were chatting among themselves on a nearby table, all of them in their Yaoi Fan Girl mode.

Eventually, Netherland blew out a cloud of smoke across the table, making the others cough and silencing them for more than a split second. Then he spoke with a grunt.

"I don't think now's the time to discuss our personal grudges with each other. What I want to know is why so many of you like England."

The dreaded question hung in the air. They all wanted to know. They all wanted to know why suddenly their competition had massively increased.

"Well … I can't say about the others but I've loved mon petit lapin for quite a while now. Centuries actually. After he grew up … I started to feel more than just brotherly love. I started having dreams of fucking him and you know. He was so cute when he was small but … he's so hot now … … Anyway! That's my story!" France answered cheerfully.

He was oblivious to the shocked expressions the others sent him … or maybe he simply didn't care. He was just too damn sexually open-minded. Spain spoke next, following France's example.

"Si, he was cute. But I started to love him when we were at sea. He was so … dangerous." A dark expression took over the idiot grin of the Spaniard. All the other nations were even more shocked than with France and a single word rang in their heads: Masochist.

Gilbert burst out laughing and agreed with his friends.

"Yeah! He was hot! I liked that pirate side of him but he was really awesome when he was an Empire! Damn! He was so fucking awesome!"

"… I hate to agree with you Prussia but … you do have a point."

Everyone's head snapped to Austria and Prussia nearly fell off his chair. The aristocrat was blushing furiously but kept sipping his tea calmly. Germany cleared his throat and tried to bring back some sense to the mini-love-conference.

"I'm sure everyone here has his reasons for … uh …"

"Loving Angleterre." France filled in for his German friend with a wink. Germany nodded, his face burning red.

"Yes … what he said … but, I think we should simply ask England who he likes and get it over with."

"Ve! No! We can't do that, Ludwig!"

"And why not Feliciano!"

"Are you a fucking idiot, potato head bastard? It's obvious why not!"

"I must agree with the Italians, Ludwig. You really have no clue when it comes to matters du coeur."

"Well, then enlighten me!" Ludwig grunted angrily.

"Ve~ Don't get angry Ludwig! You look scary! But we can't tell Inghiltera because if we do, what chances do we have of seducing him?"

"Seducing him?"

"Fucking bastard! Don't go around spoiling our chances of seducing Inghiltera! If we tell him, he might actually choose someone and then we'd have no chance at all! He can't love all of us!"

The understanding finally sunk in everyone's mind across the small table. And panic rose up again.

_**Later, after almost an hour of argument …**_

"Alright! Is everyone clear on what the plan is?" Germany asked.

Everyone nodded with determination.

"Good. By the end of this week, the conference will be over and we will all leave London. We all have until then to … erm …

"Make Angleterre fall in love with one of us." France continued on while Germany started blushing again. "And we will all have to find ways of keeping Scott and Arthur's other siblings away. Just so you all know, he has four of them: Scotland and Ireland which you have met. And Wales and Northern Ireland. But hopefully they won't show up."

"Right. Is everything clear?" Germany regained his composure and his military speech.

"I have a question, Germany-san, France-san."

"What is it Japan?"

"What if none of us succeed?"

"Then … I guess we'll have to try again next time." Germany shrugged. "And remember to keep this all among us. We don't want other countries to get involved! Canada and Pakistan will be sworn to secrecy too. And the girls …"

A quick glance at the mad, giggling girls at the table next to them convinced them enough to stay away from them.

"… I think we're safe with them." Germany concluded. "Now, good luck to everyone. France! Where are you going?"

France was already running out of the coffee shop and the others barely heard his reply.

"I saw mon lapin heading back to the conference room! See you losers later!"

America was the first to jump after him, yelling insults at the Frenchman, and got quickly followed by the others.

The coffee shop was now absolutely silence albeit the loud giggling of the three girls.

"That was fun! I can't wait and see what happens next!" Hungary said with a sadistic grin.

"Poor England! Getting all this attention and so suddenly!" Taiwan cooed with a grin. She didn't sound sorry at all.

"I'm more worried for those guys! What if Scotland finds out their little game?" Belgium giggled.

The three girls burst out laughing.

"Well, what can you do! They are in love!" Taiwan sighed.

"It sounded more like a love war." Belgium pointed out.

"It doesn't matter. All's fair in love and war!" Hungary said before suddenly jumping out of her seat.

The other two look at her with questioning eyes.

"I've got to get this on tape!" She said with and excited grin which quickly spread to her friends as they rushed after the boys.

Only the shop owner was left at his coffee/tea bar. He sighed.

"Dear me … Mr Kirkland sure has many strange guests today."

_**Elsewhere …**_

"You're sure about this?"

"Definitely. I told you: he called Ireland! Something must be wrong!"

"Well, if something is wrong, why didn't he tell us?"

"I don't know! But when I find out what's going on, both those idiots are dead meat!"

"And you think Arthur's in trouble?"

"That must be it! Why else would Scott call Stupid South for help? It's because he's at the conference too! Wait, no! The fact that he is at the conference when it's held in London is wrong! You know how South is!"

"… Maybe."

"And Scotty wen to the conference with Artie too!"

"Maybe."

"I'm telling you, I'm right! Something's dodgy here!"

"Did you check with anyone?"

"Yes! I phoned Iceland …"

"Oh, you're boyfriend."

"Shut up! He's only my friend! He's too small and skinny to be my type! Anyway! He said that Scotland and Ireland had NOT caused trouble during the conference! They didn't even fight once!"

The lay-back, brown haired boy snapped a shocked beyond belief face towards the ginger haired girl beside him. Emerald met emerald.

"You're joking!"

"I'm not."

"Something is terribly wrong here!"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, sheep-shagger!"

"Let's go, witchy! Artie won't survive if those two start acting like real brothers."

"You mean the world won't survive. Stupid Scotty! He should have told us! Why did he go to see Stupid South!"

"I'll take on skirt-boy and you take mad-hatter."

"With pleasure!"

An odd couple started to walk down the streets of London.


	5. Chapter 5 And then they were four

AN: Sorry for the wait and thank you to all of those following this story. To make up for it, I'm posting 2 chapters at once. Enjoy~

**And then they were four**

"Why me? If there's some kind of god up there, why did he have to pick _me_ to torment?" Arthur sighed as he watched the chaos in the room unfold itself.

He glanced at his watch and groaned in annoyance.

"Maybe I could leave and come back in an hour. Would they notice?" he took another glance at the chaos inside the conference room. "Probably not."

Just as he was about to leave the room for some fresh air and a bit of peace and quiet, his name echoed across the entire building. He froze with his hand on the handle.

"… Why me?" he mumbled before facing the staring faces of his fellow nations.

"Oi Artie! Where yar goin'?" Scotland asked with a curious grin, as if he was not strangling America and Russia at the same time, one in each hand, which in itself was quite impressive.

"… As far away as possible from you lot."

"Aw! Wot we do now?" A ginger hair girl asked before pouncing on her beloved big brother.

"Take a wild guess. And get off me while you're at it." England sighed as he tried to push away the clinging girl.

"Naw! You stayin'!" she whined.

"I'm not."

"Come on, li'lle bro! Nuthin's goona go wrong!" A brown haired man with a smile creepier than Russia's said while slamming his cricket bat around and mostly chasing after the infernal trio of Spain, France and Prussia.

"J'st cleanin' th'room a bit fo' ya! Ain't ya glad?" Patrick sang, seated in his seat calmly while waving a stick in his hand. The Italy twins were floating in mid-air above his head, crying and begging. Germany was trying to get them down but soon found himself joining them.

"Aye! We're just makin' a bit o' order fer ya!" Scott cheered, his eyes narrowing on his angry victims.

"… That's great but everything already went wrong 10 minutes ago. You do remember what I said concerning world conferences?"

All four stared at the blond with blank faces.

"No brawling, no smashing, no fighting, no magic and no killing random bastards." Arthur sighed as if he where repeating a very essential rule to a five year old child.

All four siblings grinned devilishly.

"Aye! Bu' we behaved! They didnea!"

"Scott, don't start with your excuses …"

"S'not an excuse! Those wee buggers were pesterin' ya, righ'? So, I'm goin' ta be a good big bro'her an' make em understand NOT ta mess wi' mah family!"

Arthur felt like his world just fell apart. _Scott_ wanted to be a good big brother? Since when? Maybe he lost it. Or hit his head somewhere. Or America's alien freak friend swapped Scott's personality with someone else's. Maybe this is a dream … yeah, definitely a dream … or a nightmare.

England face palmed himself and sighed. Dream or not, he'd have to deal with this mess sooner or later … … let's make it later. Much later.

"You are unbelievable. Do what you want. I'm need a fag."

"I'm comin' with you~" the ginger haired girl said while following after her brother.

'Why me? I should have known that their morning behaviour was abnormal. But why did they have to wreck the place … again? And it all started well too … sort of.' Arthur thought, ignoring the talkative girl at his arm.

_**Earlier that day, after the lunch break …**_

"Arthur! Mon lapin!"

"What the …! Hey!" Arthur barely had the time to open the door to the conference room when he was tackled by an over-affectionate Francis.

"Francis! Get off me, frog bastard!"

"But mon chérie, I love you~"

"Sure! Whatever! Now get off before I kick your perverted arse into oblivion!"

The threat rang empty in France's ears as he hugged his victim tighter, trying to kiss him in the midst of the Englishman's struggling.

"The hero will save the day!" America yelled as he pulled Francis away from Arthur.

"Thank you Ameri-caaaa!"

No longer was Arthur freed from Francis that he was now assaulted by Alfred in a bone-crushing hug. Literally bone-crushing.

"A-me-ri-caa … can't … breathe … gerroff …" Arthur managed to articulate.

"Ooops! Sorry Artie!" Alfred laughed as he released the smaller man.

Arthur tried catching his breath when someone else tackled him … again.

"Ve~ Arthur! Are you ok! You look pale! Are you sick? Ve! Ve! Ve!"

"I'm f-fine, I-Italy … Please, stop touching me like that!"

"Fratello! Get off now!" Romano yelled as he pulled his brother away and grumbled a half-hearted apology to their host.

Arthur noticed the sudden arrival of a dozen more countries. And not all ones he'd be pleased to see.

"Amigo~ You don't look so well~" Spain grinned widely while snaking his arm around Arthur's waist.

"And I'm sure this makes you ecstatic. Please remove your hand from my waist before I punch you."

"Hmm~ Then where on you would you like me to put my hand?"

Arthur blushed under the sly comment and punched the Spaniard in the face.

"Kesese! Missed your catch, Tonio!"

"Bruder don't cause more mess than there already is!"

"Chill Lud! You're not going to get laid if you keep acting all stuck up like that! Besides, there's no way you'd win against the awesome me so just go and find yourself a little Italian. They're easy."

"Easy? Who're you calling easy, potato bastard!" Romano yelled angrily at the albino. Even Feliciano looked angry.

"Ah! Italy-san! Romano-san! Gilbert-san! Please don't start a fight! I'm sorry Arthur-san for the trouble we caused you."

"It's alright Kiku. No need to apologise, you didn't do anything." Arthur smiled at his Japanese friend.

That's when China got angry.

"That's unfair Japan! Aru! Don't try acting all nice like that!"

Japan's polite expression darkened as he turned to face is ex-brother.

"I don't see what you mean, China … san."

"I'll show you what I mean! Aru!"  
The two Asians suddenly got into fighting positions, facing each other with glaring eyes.

"Kol kol kol … Little England." A voice echoed behind Arthur making him shiver.

"What is it, Russia?"

"You will sit next to Russia today, da?"

"Wha…?"

"Hey! Commie bastard! Stay away from England!" America shouted, pointing his gun towards the mad Russian and his faucet pipe.

England was now slightly panicked about the turn of events. Nations where glaring at each other and he had a hard time to calm them down.

"… How could I be included in the same bag as those idiots?" India complained.

"Hmph." Netherlands sounded like he was about to retort but kept to himself.

That only caught India's attention more.

"What? What were you going to say? Say it, smoke bastard!"

"You're annoying and in my way. All of you." Netherlands stated plainly.

"In _your_ way? Because you think he's your property maybe? I know him better than any of you bastards! You're the ones getting in _my_ way!"

"You're annoying." Netherland's dark glare collided with India's furious one.

Pakistan was snickering while Canada failed to calm everyone down.

"Noisy."

"I must agree this is an unpleasant sight." Austria said while his stare drifted to a very annoyed England trying to stop the Germanic-Italian collision.

"Stop."

Austria stared at Norway in surprise. The Nordic was glaring icily at him.

"Stop what?"

"Stop staring at Arthur."  
Austria felt his blood boil but he kept his aristocratic composure.

"I don't see why I should obey you."

"I won't forgive you." Norway's ice-blue eyes started glowing dangerously.

"Neither will I." Austria was losing his composed façade and a fierce expression took over.

The girls arrived shortly after and their giggling alerted Arthur. He saw them filming and taking pictures of the various rivalries. Other countries coming back were too frightened to come inside the room and waited at the door, watching from a safe distance.

France and Spain had already started a fight and the others were just begging to start. Arthur was rapidly losing his patience.

"ENOUGH! I'm sick and tired of all your mucking around! I'm hosting a world conference here and anyone who fools around will be kicked out! Understood?" Arthur shouted, his eyes blazing with anger.

Everyone in the room fell silent.

"Oi, Artie! Wot's with all th' shoutin'?"

Everyone's attention drifted towards the couple standing in the door frame of the meeting room. Arthur cringed and didn't need to turn around to know who the speaker was. Before he could say anything he got tackled (again … what's with all the tackling today?) by something fiery red and green eyed.

"You alrigh'? I hear' Scotty came so I though' you were hurt o' somethin'!" a high pitched, worried voice spoke as Arthur felt the weight over him shift and he met the identical emerald eyes of his younger sister. Her round, freckled face showed worry behind the straight curtain of her ginger hair and she was eyeing him with a frown, trying to see if he was alright.

"I'm fine, Fiona. Can you please get off me?"

She frowned a bit more but then beamed brightly, obviously satisfied by his answer.

"Sure! Glad you alrigh'!"

The other person walked to them and extended a helping hand to his younger brother. The man had deep brown hair which texture was similar to a sheep's wool, the same thick eyebrows above emerald eyes but a smaller and bulkier body than Arthur. He had cuts and burn marks on his sturdy arms but didn't seem to mind it much. His dazed and slightly out of space expression was appeasing and he gave off a calming aura. The girl was energetic and moody. Her small size didn't make her body any less attractive with voluptuous curves and her childish face was quite cute too.

Arthur sighed. First Scotland, then Ireland and now …

"What are you both doing here, Wales and Northern Ireland?"

"Aw! Don't call me that! I like it better by my name, Artie! You know it!" The girl whined.

Wales only shrugged before answering Arthur's question.

"North said tha' ye migh' be n'trouble so we came ta make sure."

Arthur stared at his brother as if he had lost his mind.

"What in the world made you think that? And since when do I need you to check on me?"

"Bu' Scotty came ta th' conference an' Stupid South ta! That's strange, righ'? An' Iceland tald me on th' phone tha' they didn't even argue." Northern Ireland pointed out with a pout.

Arthur rolled his eyes. He should have known. Get one over and the whole gang turns up!

"Yes, ok! Scott and Pat are here but that's no reason …"

He interrupted his sentence as he saw the deadpan, disbelieving looks of his siblings. He couldn't really blame them for thinking that. He couldn't have believed it himself if they had told him that Ireland and Scotland had gone through a meeting without murdering each other.

"Alright, I know how it sounds but everything's fine! They … somehow … didn't cause a riot … yet." Arthur's hesitance made the other two grin happily.

"Saw maybe we could stay th'n?" The man asked.

"What? No way! I already have two nutters to deal with! I don't need any extras!"

"Tha's mean, Artie! An' we were worried 'bowt ye!"

"… Connor, don't make it sound like that. You guys were bored and curious, that's all."

"Hm … Yeah, maybe li'lle bu' we worry bit taw."

Arthur eyed him suspiciously before nodding.

"Okay. If you say so. Alright. Both of you can stay as long as you DON'T cause any mess! Understood?"

"Yay! Thanks Artie!" Fiona cheered while hugging her brother.

The Englishman turned to the other nations and reluctantly introduced his younger sister Northern Ireland and his third older brother Wales. It didn't take long for Scotland and Ireland to turn up and soon, the conference started again.

Every single nation had their eyes locked on the arguing siblings. Apparently, Scotland was arguing with Wales while Northern with Southern Ireland on who would sit where. England had plainly decided to ignore them and start the meeting. Scotland on the right, Wales on the left, Southern Ireland next to Wales, Northern Ireland on his lap, England finally got some peace and quiet … or so he thought. It only took 20 minutes for hell to break loose.

America was off in his hero speech again and got interrupted by Scotland, Wales was listening to his iPod, North had fallen asleep in a matter of seconds, Ireland started to argue with Prussia about beer. From then on, the beer lovers started a brawl, Germany tried to stop them but got caught up in the fight (if there is one thing Germany doesn't mess with, it's beer). Russia joined in America and Scotland's argument which strangely enough went on about whether Scotland's kilt was a skirt or not (Scott being very sensitive about this and ALWAYS emphasising that a _kilt_ is not a _skirt_, he got pretty worked up). France and Spain started bothering England but soon found themselves threatened by a fully armed Northern Ireland (she has even more weapons than Switzerland and you do NOT want to mess with her … or her favourite brother). In the midst of it all, Wales noticed that something was wrong but didn't bother helping England calm everyone down. It was still fine at that point … until Italy had the not-so-bright idea of jumping on England.

"Veee! Arthur! Your siblings are scary! Waaaaah! Don't kill me!" Veneziano cried while latching himself to England.

"Feliciano! Get a grip! They're not going to hurt you … I think."

"Hey Bastard, do something! They're going to kill someone!" Romano joined in, gripping Englands free arm.

Now, with both arms immobilised by sobbing Italians, Arthur really thought it couldn't get any worse. How wrong he was!

Fiona sent Francis flying across the room, quickly followed by Antonio, but she accidentally aimed to the spot where Arthur was being held by the twins. Arthur's eyes widened as he swiftly moved to avoid a collision with Francis but got hit by Antonio. When Arthur opened his eyes, he was pinned to the ground by Antonio's heavy body and next to him, the Italians were struggling too. Antonio had fallen on them sideways, catching them all in the fall. Arthur sighed and brutally lifted Antonio up and threw him away. He was heavy but Arthur wasn't weak. At all. Quite the opposite. Seriously, with brothers like those, how could Arthur not be strong? He turned to the panting Italians.

"Hey … Are you both alright? Fiona! Be careful next time! And don't send people flying around! It's dangerous!"  
"S'rry but those two were flirtin' with you!"  
"Yes, I know! They do that all the bloody time! At least aim better next time!"

"Oki doki!"

Arthur sighed and helped the twins up. Feliciano was unusually silent and without notice he swung his arms around Arthur's neck and kissed him bang on the lips. Fiona let out a small squeaking sound of shock and Connor's expression changed drastically from carefree and peaceful to insanely murderous. Scott and Patrick both stopped their fights and stared, wide eyes and jaws dropped, at the scene. Everyone in the room silenced in shock. Romano was the only one who wasn't shocked. He was just purely angry and was glaring holes in his brother.

Arthur was so stunned he couldn't move and his mind went blank. Feliciano's scent invaded him and the Italian's lips curled into a smirk as he deepened the kiss. Soon, his tongue licked the Englishman's lower lip, biting it slightly and begging for entrance. Arthur was too stunned to register so Feliciano pulled away reluctantly. Chocolate eyes met emerald ones and both men were breathing heavily.

"Wha …" Arthur gasped quietly.

"Ti amo." Feliciano purred in Arthur's ear. "Ti amo, Arturo~."

Before Arthur could respond, Romano had already assaulted his brother and punched him in the face, knocking him to the floor and breaking his nose. South Italy didn't even look down to check the damage he had done and simply turned to the Island nation and pulled him in an angry, raw, passionate kiss. Much more aggressive than Feliciano, he didn't hesitate to bite Arthur's lips down till he opened his mouth, not minding the blood seeping from the wound he created in Arthur's lip. His tongue snaked inside the Englishman's mouth and explored it. Lovino's hands rustled through Arthur's golden hair. The poor host was desperately trying to regain his senses.

What was going on? One minute he's kissing Feliciano and the next it's Lovino! What the hell is going on? And who is he kissing? Why the fuck is he kissing? Arthur's lack of air made him try to pull away but Lovino held a surprisingly strong grip on the blond. A complaining moan escaped Arthur's lips and made Lovino smirk in his kiss. They both heard Feliciano growl angrily. Arthur was surprised. He had never seen Lovino this aggressive and engaging, nor did he ever hear Feliciano growl like that before. Eventually, Lovino pulled away to breathe. Arthur gasped and panted, taking deep breathes and slowly calming down his adrenaline to analyse his situation as calmly as he could.

He never got the chance, the Italians started a fight, yelling in Italian to each other under the shocked looks of the other nations. As they fought, America finally snapped out of his confusion and got really angry.

"Hey! That's not fair! You can't just kiss him like that! I'm the hero so I'm the one to kiss Arthur!"

"Stai Zitto!" The Italians growled back at him.

Spain and France had woken up in time to see Feliciano and Lovino's kisses. Their expressions suddenly darkened, Spain had even drawn his axe from God knows where and was threatening to cut anyone near Arthur. Prussia yelled in German, his eyes blazing like they did during his battle days and he charged while shouting things like "don't touch MY Arthur" or "I'll kill you all" in German.

Other nations started to growl and shout in discontent but the only remaining quiet ones were the four British siblings. Oh, they were mad alright! Absolutely enraged! And Arthur knew it. He didn't bother sorting out the fights that had erupted among various nations, he was too busy watching the growing dark auras of his siblings. Oh dear! Just watching them reminded him strangely of the four riders of the apocalypse on doom's day. And that was an understatement. He watched as he dreaded their reaction.

Russia and America were both fighting and the Russian suddenly grabbed England in a firm embrace, claiming him threateningly. _That_ is when Scotland snapped. He walked straight towards the arguing couple and grabbed each of their necks in his hands. His emerald eyes fuelled by rage, hatred and pure savagery. Patrick drew out his wand and mumbled in a low, threatening voice. Suddenly, the Italians flew up in the air and were shaken around the room, banging into walls as Patrick watched with a sadistic pleasure. Fiona had all her guns out. All of them. And she was shooting, chasing, blowing holes into anyone and everyone while yelling a war cry. Her attention quickly focused on Japan, China and India who were arguing among each other until fleeing the crazy she-devil. She even made Belarus scared and fear for her life. Connor was now showing a creepy smile even scarier than Russia's and he was humming lightly as he "borrowed Australia's cricket bat for a minute" and his insane gaze locked on the Bad Touch Trio. He smirked and started to chase them with his bat. He easily destroyed Antonio's axe, Francis and Gilbert's guns or any other weapons they threw at him. It was like he was made of iron (considering he works with dragons every day, a few bullets and sharp knives aren't going to hurt him much).

Arthur stared blankly at the ravage and chaos his siblings were causing and he sighed. _That's_ why he never brought his siblings to conferences. They just can't hold back and diplomacy has absolutely no place in their dictionary.

"And who's left to deal with the cleaning afterwards? That's right! Me!" The English nation sighed.


	6. Chapter 6 The conference must go on

What it means to be a big brother

**The conference must go on**

Arthur sat in his living room, a warm teacup in hand and an Agatha Christie book in the other. His reading glasses tilted elegantly on the bridge of his nose and his expression was peaceful and relaxed. This was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

"Artiiiiiie!"

And now it was not.

Arthur sighed as he closed his book, placed his teacup on its saucer and lifted defeated eyes towards the wooden, white door of his living room before it blasted open. Scotland emerged and a devilish grin appeared on his face when he spotted his younger brother.

"Artie! There ya'ar!"

"What is it now?" Arthur sighed, letting the red-hair drop himself next to him.

"Wot's wi' tha bad mood?"

"Guess."

Scotland smiled apologetically as he ruffled the golden locks of his brother.

"Sorry lad! Didnae mean ta cause ya trouble again!"

"Well you did."

"Aye bu' they star'ed it! Tha Roman bastard kissed ya!"

"I know! I was the one been kissed! I bloody know! But that gave you no bloody right to destroy the building and injure half of the nations present! If anything, I should be the one doing this!" Arthur hissed with furious eyes.

"Aye … we went overboard. Sorry."

"Don't 'sorry' me. You're paying for the reparations and the hospital bill."

"Aw! No fair! Wot 'bout Connor, Pat an' Fiona?"

"You sort it out among yourselves. I'm not giving you a penny. I've done it enough times."

"Stingy."

"Immature."

Scotland burst into a fit of laughter and after a while, even England allowed an amused smiled to play on his lips. The red haired man sighed loudly as he calmed down and stared blankly at the ceiling. He heard Arthur pick up his book and flipping the pages. They stayed as such for a while, enjoying their comfortable silence. This often happened between them. Many other nations thought that Scotland and England did not get along. That's not true. They got along much better than North and South Italy for example. Or North and South of Ireland (that's a deadly combination), or Japan and China, or Spain and Portugal, or Pakistan and India. America and Canada don't count since America can never remember having a brother but if he did, there probably would be part of the list of examples. No, Scotland and England might have had arguments and fights in the past … bloody battles and dark times … but they never put their personal feelings involve. And after years of hard work, they managed to convince a union between their governments, hence creating the United Kingdom. It took time for the people to accept this new alliance but with time, a British identity was formed. And now, their people were perfectly at peace with each other, allowing the two nations to enjoy one another's company without worry of a war. Scotland and England still fight, like all the British siblings do, but they never aim to hurt the other or take it seriously. It's just a way of interaction between them. When they didn't fight, they relaxed in each other's company in a peaceful silence … just like right now.

**As the following discussion will be told in old Scot and old English, I will be translating it all into normal English for comprehension purposes. Note that when together, the two siblings tend to favour the use of their old tongues.**

"Hey Arthur."

"Yes?"

"Do you love anyone?"

Arthur lifted surprised eyes from his book and stared at his brother, blinking a few times before answering.

"Why?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't fall in love."

"Again: Why?"

"You'll get hurt again. I don't want to see you hurt."

"… Thanks but if I do love someone, I don't think it's any of your bloody business."  
"Please, Arthur. I don't like it! I don't … please, don't be naïve. Don't let them in your heart. They'll break it! I know they will! And I'll kill them if they do!"

Arthur smiled thankfully at his fuming brother. He always liked how Scott would act overprotective of him. It made him feel special and … at least, he knew that _one_ person in the world cared for him. Arthur had had so many heartbreaks and deceptions that he couldn't count them all. But Scott was always here to support him. Even when on opposite sides, they'd sometimes meet in secret and just apologise silently for the horrors to come. No need for words, they both knew the other as well as themselves. That's why Arthur was able to survive, grow strong and never falter as a nation. Because he wasn't alone. And for that, he will be eternally thankful to his dear brother.

The blond flipped another page of his book, humming softly. Scott stopped his rant and listened to the quiet melody before grinning like an excited child.

"You like that song, don't you?" he asked once England had finished humming.

"What song?"

"Loch Lomond."

"Yes, I do."

"It's one of mine."

"Your point?"

"None."

They both smiled knowingly, neither crossing eyes with the other. Both heard some knocking, thumping and loud shouts of a growing argument upstairs. Probably Fiona who messed with Connor's music records again (Note: Do NOT, under any circumstance, mess with Wales' music collection … unless you want a quick and painful trip to hell).

"You didn't answer my question."

Arthur sighed and dropped his book as he rubbed his eyes. He could feel Scott's inquisitive, emerald gaze on him but he didn't open his eyes and answered reluctantly.

"Who do I love?"

"Aye."

"… I was just as surprised as you all were when Italy and Romano kissed me. I honestly thought Italy was interested in Germany, and vice versa. Same goes for Romano and Spain."

"…"

"France is always the perverted frog he is. America is a fucking idiot with a hero complex. Apart from them, not many countries show much interest in dating me. So I really was shocked. But …"

"But?" Scott's heart dropped as he watched with fearful eyes the thoughtful expression of the blond.

"I don't know. I'm not interested in either France or America ..."

"Good."

"But I've never given it much thought, per say. I didn't seriously think anyone was remotely interested in me … I guess … I'm not in love right now but … I might be if someone suitable came up. But that's unlikely, considering how distant people seem to be with me … er … well, until yesterday." Arthur coughed the last few words nervously.

He noticed the dark glimmer in his brother's eyes. Not a good sign.

"Scott?"

The Scotsman turned his usual cheeky grin to his worried younger sibling.

"Aye?"

"Don't go killing anyone."

"Now why would I do that?"

"I've seen the look in your eyes just now. Don't kid me, you've got murder written all over your face."

"… Sorry lad. I guess, I'm a bit frustrated, is all."

"I know you're worried but I can handle myself. I'm not weak anymore."

"I know but you're naïve. I …"

"Are you kidding? Naïve? After all the shit I've been through, you still think I'm that naïve little kid that Rome could manipulate at his will?"

Both brothers grimaced at the mention of Rome and a tensed silence spread in the room.

"I didn't mean that …" Scott finally whispered tentatively.

"I know." Arthur sighed.

"Just … just be careful. There are a lot of them."

"A lot of what?"

"Arthur …" The red haired sighed. "What do you do during those fucking conferences? Don't you ever look around?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're the most popular nation around … apparently."

Arthur stared blankly at his brother before bursting in laughter.

"Are you joking? Me? Popular? No fucking way!"  
"Yes fucking way. I heard them."

"Is that what you were talking about with those wankers yesterday? Before Fiona and Connor arrived?"

"Maybe."

"Don't go around spreading stupid rumours. I see those nutters every month! Okay, I was surprised about Italy but, come on! Me? Popular?"

"Why not?" Scott shrugged. "You're hot."

"Excuse me?"

"I said you're hot. You look like mum and she was hot."

"Are you saying I fucking look like a girl?"

"Not really. But you do have mum's good looks … in a manly way."

"Right! Very funny!"

"I'm not joking! Go on! Tell me you did not come back home with three girl's numbers on your arm last time we went drinking with Pat."

"You came back with two numbers and a real life girl."

"Aye but you didn't come back until next morning! What was her name again? Sandra?"

"Fuck off!"

"See what I mean."  
"We're nations. We naturally attract normal humans. It proves nothing."

"Aye, I know … we're like sexy vampires! Only without the biting part."

"Whatever."

"But you're different, Arthur."  
"Oh, pray tell!" Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I'm telling you, there are a lot of nations with their eyes on you. You be careful!"

"Yes mum!" Arthur chuckled sarcastically before turning serious again. "Why would they be interested in me? I'm nothing special! I'm moody and serious all the time and I can't speak to another nation without being sarcastic."

"I know! That's what's cute about you~!"

"Scott … you're getting out of topic."

"Oh, right! Well, I can see many reasons why they would be interested in you … not only your looks …"

"You've got good-looks too."  
"… Yeah right. I've got dad's looks."

"So? He was good-looking."

"I'm dad's fucking portrait!"

"Minus the beard and long hair … yes."

"Seriously, Arthur, are you trying to piss me off?"  
"A bit."

"I'm not saying dad's ugly but he was average for a nation. Mum was seriously hot … as hot as Gaul."

"Well they were sisters."

"You think I don't know that, funny man?"

"Whatever. Maybe I do look a lot like mum but France, Antonio or the Italies have taken after Rome. In fact, France has both Gaul _and_ Rome!"

"Aye … but so did you."

"What?"

"You never noticed but there was a change from when you left until you came back. You do look like Rome a bit. And like Germania."

"What?"

"You know that you don't take much from dad, right? You have more from the Germanic side like Prussia, Germany or Austria. Remember your origins lad! _England_: The land of the Angles!"

"…"

"That's why Arthur, you've got a very unusual and attractive physic. And don't you dare try to tell me wrong! Then there's your personality."

"It's shite."

"No it's not. America is shite. He's boring, an idiot and one day, I'll kill him. But you're not. You've got a very diverse culture from across the world …"

"So do you …"  
"Not really. You're more international than I am. We have a lot in common but I don't have as much as you. Plus, you're our foreign manager, per say."

"Thank you for reminding me."

"My point is that you interacted with others more than we did. They got to know you and you showed them more than that cold façade you usual keep up. And during our pirate times, you were fearless and out-going! In fact you had many time periods of rebellion. You're still an arrogant prick, that never changed."

"Fuck off!"

"But overall … you really shouldn't lower yourself like that. How come you're such an arrogant and proud bastard but when it comes to love, you think you don't stand a chance?"

"…"

Scotland chuckled as he ruffled his confused brother's hair.

"Don't worry yourself too much. I told you: There are plenty of reasons why you're attractive to nations. Your 'Empire mode' is freaking hot too. You know that nations always feel attracted to dominance. Well, you're the personification of dominance."

"That's only a sexual attraction."

"Agreed. And I think that's how they all felt the first time. But they couldn't really sexually assault the Great British Empire or the Lord of the Seven Seas, now could they?" Scott scoffed.

A smirk grew on Arthur's lips.

"You were part of it too, may I remind you?"

"Aye Aye Cap'n! But I think what started with sexual attraction turned into more."

"… Just how much thought did you put into that little theory of yours?"

"Enough. But I'm right!"

"Who's the arrogant prick now?"

"You are because I'm right!"

"Skirt wearing bastard."

"I love you too, Artie!"

They both remained deep in their own thoughts, ignoring the sounds of crashing walls upstairs and the possible fact that there might not be an upstairs anymore.

"Do we have to continue this stupid conference?" The Scotsman asked out of the blues.

"Yes. Once everyone is out of hospital tomorrow, we'll start again. It would have been over already if you guys hadn't fucked it all up."

"Well, sor-ry your Majesty for trying to prevent anyone from raping you!"

"I can defend myself without needing the help of some wannabe brother!"

The two started sulking until Scotland got up nervously and walked away.

"Just be careful." Scott whispered.

"I know." Arthur whispered back.

Neither of them brought up that discussion again. England was now seriously worried of the sudden revelations of his brother. Was he really _popular_? That didn't seem right. He was flattered of course but … it's just hard to imagine!

Scotland was scheming his next move. No matter what England says, Scotland was not reassured in the least. He will trail England by the tail if he must to make sure that _nobody_ dares to fuck with his little brother's feelings. If they did … it'll be hell to pay.


	7. Information Note from the Author

**Information Note from the Author**

Hey everyone! Thank you for following this story and for being patient with my *cough* late *coughverylatecough* submitting! I really appreciated all your comments and reviews!

Now on to business! So far, this is the situation of our protagonist and his fellow nations:

**Protagonist:**

England

**Team-protect-England-from-any-bastard-of-a-nation-who-dares-to-try-and-play-him:**

Scotland (in charge)

Wales

Ireland N

Ireland S

yes I know that's a veeeery long name for a team but Northern Ireland came up with the title … out of the other options which included: **Team-kill-every-fuckers-anywhere-near-England**, courtesy of Wales … do NOT ask me what Scotland had in mind …*shivers* let's just say that title was the least bloody, murderous one of the lot … and that is not and exploit!

**List of nations potentially having a chance in this insane competition:**

Spain

Italy N

Italy S

Germany

Prussia

Austria

Norway

Russia

China

Japan

India

Netherland

**List of nations removed and with no chance in this still insane competition:**

France

America

**List of spectators:**

Canada

Pakistan

**List of members of the Yaoi Nation's Fan Club:**

Hungary (in charge)

Belgium

Taiwan

Liechtenstein is also a member when she manages to escape her brother's surveillance … not an easy task!

Now that this is cleared up, let's get down to why I'm telling you all of this. I'm struggling for ideas basically. I don't know who England should be with.

Personally, I love SpUk or England paired with either Italies. But that doesn't mean that they have a better chance of winning the game than the others. For all I know, Germany could win!

My point is: I'm asking you guys for advice.

If there is any pairings you love … or absolutely hate (like I hate FrUk or UsUk) then tell me. I will take your opinion into consideration.

Actually, I'm planning on kicking someone out of Seduce-England competition with each next chapter. So if you want someone to be eliminated, tell me and the most popular … uh, that sounds wrong … the least liked candidate will be sent to join France and America.

Do NOT hate me because I don't like France and America. I will set up a chapter where they try to woe England but … obviously fail. And I won't exclude them from the story or any other nations that get kicked out of the game. This is just a way for me to get down to WHO will be left with Arthur in the end! … If anyone is left. Scotty might actually succeed in killing them all. And by the way, if that's what you want, I would be delighted in having Scotland deal with them.

**Note to everyone:** There will NOT be any ScotxEng romance! The relationship between them is purely brotherly love. I can't say the same for the other siblings though *evil grin*

If you want England to be paired with one of his siblings (except Scotland) then tell me and I might put in something.

And just so you all know, in my OC of Northern Ireland, she hates (to a certain extent) her southern counter-part BUT she absolutely LOVES England. Kind of like a British Belarus. But even scarier and deadlier.

Finally, if there is a nation that isn't currently in the fic and that you want to join in the Catch-England's-heart competition then tell me and I might put them in. Someone already mentioned to me Romania. Anyone up for a sexy vampire to join the club?

Or if you want them to be simply spectators, that's fine too but a bit pointless and I might not (probably won't) bother.

Okayyy! Overall, that's it!

I love England x the world so any choice you make, I'll be fine with it. And yes, it's a crazy story with a crazy plot straight out of my crazy mind! I had not intended this to end up with a harem-like situation. I seriously didn't.

It initially just started off as a short story to show some kind of brotherly love between Scotland and England. I'm sick of all those abusive/rape/hate sex stuff! Scotland is not like that! And I've been there so I know what Scottish people are like and they are the sweetest thing on earth! No way could Scotty be mean and abusive! And I don't particularly like a romance between those two. Which doesn't leave much choice online, does it? So I made my own story which was meant to end after chapter 2.

I know, I'm _way_ beyond chapter 2. It's not my fault! People kept pestering me for more, soooo … I kind of … continued? I regret it now since I have no fucking idea what will happen next. What started with ScotxEng brother relationship ended with … _this_! How? I seriously want to know _how_? I bet those nations played a trick on my mind!

A good comparison I got from a review was: "England is an Alpha Male". Yep, that kind of summons it up! England had contacts with almost everything nation on the planet (British Empire, Alliances, Wars, and what the fuck else) so he's basically my perfect love guinea pig! He can be paired with everyone! XD And I think that's why we ended up with this outcome.

But Scotty's not too happy about it! I said Scotland is an absolute sweetheart? Well, my OC of him is, he play's rough to hide it and so nations not close to him don't really know the sweet side of him. But being sweet and all doesn't mean he can't fight. I mean, he never got invaded much when you look back at history. So even if he's mostly a nice guy … he does have a dark side to him *evil grin* What do you expect from the former British Empire? England's not the only sexy pirate! And I'm going to have fun showing a deeper side of Scotland but also the other sibling's personality.

Considering all those factors … I'd be surprised if anyone is left standing in the end.

Well, that's all! Thank you guys for your support and please don't leave me to my demise!

I'll try to update faster but no guarantee! I glad this story is appreciated and I hope I won't disappoint anyone in the future. If I do … well, sorry!

Send me a message if you have ideas and to tell me who you want out! This is going to be sooooo much fun XDXDXD

_England: … This is insane. I don't know you crazy people! I'm going home._

_America: Hey! Why am I out! No fair!_

_France: I agree! I didn't even get a chance to seduce mon petit Angleterre!_

_Italy N: Veee~ Big Brother and America are out! Yay! I'm going to win!_

_Italy S: Stupid Fratello! Who the fuck said you'd win? They'll vote for me, obviously!_

_Spain: Now, Roma, you know that's not true! I'm the best candidate! The country of passion always wins!_

_Italy S: Shut up Bastard! I'm the country of Seduction!_

_France: I'm the country of Love but I'm still out and those two idiots are in? This is wrong!_

_America: Iggy! I'll win right? I'm the hero! Heroes always win!_

_Russia: Kol kol kol, not if the hero is out._

_America: Well a villain like you can't possibly win!_

_China: This is getting out of hand aru … Japan? What are you doing with Hungary?_

_Japan: *blushing* N-nothing! I'm not betting on my winning … not at all!_

_China: … Bet? Aru! Hungary wait! I'm betting three hundred grams of gold on my win!_

_Prussia: Kesesese! I'm awesome so those 300g are as good as mine!_

_Austria: Don't be so sure Prussia._

_Prussia: What's that? You think you stand a chance, prissy aristocrat? You wouldn't get anything since you never bet …_

_Austria: As a matter of fact, I did bet._

_Prussia: Really? How much?_

_Austria: …_

_Germany: Hungary! Stop that! This is ridiculous! You don't bet on stuff like that … … are those my votes?_

_Hungary: *evil grin* They sure are! Aren't you popular, lud?_

_Germany: … 500 euros on me._

_Italy N: Veeee~ Hungary! How many votes do I have now?_

_Hungary: Italy! You've already asked me that 5min ago! Give time to the public to vote!_

_India: … I wonder who'll get kicked out._

_Norway: … … Not me._

_India: You can't be sure!_

_Norway: *walks off* I can._

_India: Weirdo._

_Hungary: Okay guys! Last chance for placing bets before the results!_

_Netherland: *blows smoke* Belgium, you're in charge of counting the votes?_

_Belgium: Yeah, why?_

_Netherland: … … … Nothing._

_Taiwan: I've got them! I've got the name of the next person out!_

_Full silence, everyone stares at Taiwan as she unseals an envelope._

_Taiwan: Alright! The person out this time is …_

_Scotland: You're all out!_

…

_England: … This is not my problem. I need a drink._


	8. Chapter 7 Smoking Forbidden

Netherlands

**The sign said: Smoking Forbidden**

Arthur sighed inwardly as he tuned out and ignored the other speaker. His phone in hand, he could hear his boss yell at him but the personification of England had already had enough. He just ignored the ranting and waited until the British Prime Minister ran out of breath and complaints.

"DO YOU REALISE HOW MUCH MONEY YOU ALL WASTED? GET YOUR SIBLINGS UNDER SUPERVISION! I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANYMORE DESTRUCTION! YOU'VE DESTROYED THE ENTIRE BUILDING AND SENT OTHER COUNTRIES TO HOSPITAL! NOW AN ENTIRE HOSPITAL HAS BECOME THOSE NATIONS' HOTEL! DO YOU REALISE WHAT YOU'VE DONE?"

Arthur pulled the phone away from his ear. Nope, he's not done yet. Let's wait another five minutes.

_Another five minutes later …_

"ARTHUR! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"

Okay, now he's done.

"Yes, David, I am listening. I already apologised for our conduct but …"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR FUCKING APPOLOGY! JUST GET THAT FUCKING MEETING OVER AND DONE WITH WITHOUT ANY OTHER INCIDENT! I'VE BEEN RECEIVING CALLS FROM OTHER STATE LEADERS SINCE YESTERDAY EVENING AND IT HASN'T STOP FOR EVEN ONE SECOND!"

"And I am very sorry about this but I assure you that those nations will be out of hospital in a few days without any trouble."

"I KNOW! THAT'S NOT THE BLOODY POINT! I KNOW HOW YOU GUYS WORK! WHAT I'M FUCKING MAD ABOUT IS THAT YOU POTENTIALLY THREATENED HALF OF THE WORLD AND ALMOST THE ENTIRE EUROPE! WE'RE HAVING A DIPLOMATIC CRISIS HERE BECAUSE OF YOU! JUST WHAT WERE YOU ALL THINKING?"

"It was just a little argument …"

"A LITTLE ARGUMENT THAT MADE AN ENTIRE OFFICIAL BUILDING COLLAPSE?"

"Well … yes."

"THAT'S ENOUGH! DON'T PLAY SMART WITH ME! I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS BEHAVIOUR OR ANY MORE MISTAKES! I WANT YOU TO SORT OUT THIS SHITE IMMEDIATELY! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Crystal clear, David."

"THEN MAKE IT HAPPEN!"

And with that, he hung up.

Arthur sighed. Really, he should have known better than let his siblings accompany him to an official world meeting. It went alright at first … Arthur actually wonders how this whole thing turned out in such a mess. Now, not only was the conference interrupted but also he would have to pay for the medical care for most nations present. Oh bloody great. That and the building that has turned into historical ruins. And overall, he needs to … apologise to each of those countries … _individually_. Thus avoiding any political rebound or tensions. Just perfect! The meeting would have been over in just two more days but now, it'll last at least another week and a half! All thanks to … talk of the devil!

Arthur glared at the three pairs of green eyes watching him from behind an open door.

"He's not happy at all." The blond stated plainly as he walked past his siblings and into the kitchen for a cup of tea. He definitely needed one to calm his nerves down. Scotland smiled apologetically, North wore a guilty, miserable puppy face and Wales simply had his usual, lazy, daydreaming face.

"We're sorry, lad! We did apologise, didnea we?"

"Yes, Scott. I know you did but you should all know better than to lose control like that! Now, we'll have to go and apologise to all those bastards!"

"We do? Can'na we jist apologise a' tha meetin' when they come out o' hospital?"

"Apparently not. Her majesty called."

"She angry?" Fiona asked in concern.

"A bit about breaking the building. Mostly, she found it hilarious once I told her what had happen. But she said we had to go and apologise to everyone in person."

"Bugger." Scott cursed.

They all were very fond of their Queen so they couldn't refuse her anything. They tended to respect the Queen more, much more than the Prime Minister. They often didn't take their boss seriously.

Arthur poured the boiling water into four cups and placed four different tea bags in each cup. He knew his siblings tastes as well as his own. Then, after adding either sugar or milk to the cups, he handed them to the rest of the UK. They all drank in silence. They were all acting like sulking children having being scolded by their mother for getting into a fight. And now, they had to apologise!

"… Get Ireland and meet me at the hospital." England decided as he finished his cup and walked out of the house.

"Aye, see ye later boyo!" Scott nodded, holding Fiona back.

She wanted to go with Arthur but the blond obviously wanted to spend some time alone to calm himself down … and not risking to kill his siblings. Needless to say that he was really pissed at them! After he had come back from clearing his mind, he was hoping the meeting to be over and everyone to have stopped fighting. Or at least, he expected his brothers to have knocked everyone out without causing too much damage. He was not happy to see rumbles where the building was previously standing. Not happy at all.

Arthur sighs as he gets off his bike (yes, he has a motorbike and he tends to use it when he doesn't want his siblings or other nations around) and walked inside the hospital. It had been rented by the government to treat solely the injured nations of the world for the next few days until they recover. Obviously, most of them would have died in the little accident caused by the British brothers but because of their nature, everyone survived but got seriously injured. Some more than others and with injuries that would still take a few days to heal with treatment. Being a country doesn't mean being invulnerable.

Arthur walked into a few rooms, apologised to each of the patients. He was very straight forward and tried to make it as quick as possible. If there is one thing he hates, it's to apologise for the mess caused by his siblings. But it must be done. He dreaded the moment when he would have to apologise to France. Dark thoughts about France in mind, Arthur walked into the next room. His mind was still cursing his historical rival until a voice brought him back to reality.

"France won't die simply by wishing it, you know."

Arthur snapped from his daydream and looked up. He cursed inwardly. He may hate apologising to France but apologising to that man was not far behind in the I-would-rather-die-than-apologise list of people in Arthur's mind. The Englishman stiffed as he faced the other man with spiky, ash blond hair, sitting calmly in a chair by the open window.

"Good day, Netherlands. I hope you were well taken care of and I apologise for the trouble that my siblings have caused you."

Netherlands didn't reply and simply blew out a cloud of smoke, his pipe dangling in his hand. His hard grey eyes kept watching England with an unreadable iron stare. He could have looked scary, in fact he often did, especially with his scar near his right eye. But Arthur knew this man to be quite harmless and mostly neutral concerning many things. Netherlands doesn't get involved and often keeps to himself, that's why nobody knew what went one in his head. His stoic expression never changed and at most he would show a frowning face when anywhere near Spain. Honestly, Arthur didn't hate the man … but he didn't like him either. He reminded him too much of Wales or sometimes himself. An unreadable mind and face. But what he hated most, was the arrogance of Netherlands whenever he deigned talking to other people. Even Arthur wasn't as disdainful as him!

"What?" The blond sighed. He knew from the other's look that he had something on his mind and was considering whether to speak up or not.

Netherlands drew another breath of smoke from his pipe with his eyes never leaving Arthur.

"That's all you came to say?"

"What else?" Arthur frowned.

"… I see."

They both stayed silent until Arthur couldn't take it anymore. He walked up to the man, his green eyes glaring furiously at him.

"No smoking in hospital." His voice was firm and imposing.

Arthur was already very pissed and his day has been going from bad to worse with each passing second so he was not in the mood to argue. In fact, he needed something to vent his anger, and Netherlands just became his new victim. The frog was next.

Netherlands watched him before smirking and blew smoke in the Briton's face. Arthur coughed and cursed, his eyes watering.

"What the fuck … Do you want me to beat the crap at out of you?"

"No. But you looked tensed. Loosen up a little, Arthur."

"Shut up! Why the fuck do you think I'm tensed anyway? I have to go and apologise to all of you wankers, one by one, for the mess caused by my bleeding brothers which I am going to kill by the way, once I get back home!"

"… Apologise? _You_?"

Arthur could hear the mockery in the other's voice and it only pissed him off even more.

"Yes. I was forced to by my Queen. Now that that's done, I'll be leaving!" He replied acidly.

"Oh, I see. That's what you were thinking when you thought of France." Netherlands mused while adjusting his scarf absent-mindedly.

"Uh? What's the frog got to do with this?"

"You were thinking of him when you came in."

"How do you know?"

"You always get that look on your face when you think of murdering France."

Arthur stared at the smoking man, speechless. He had always thought to keep a straight face, no matter what murderous thought crossed his mind. How did Holland know …?

"Don't worry. It's not like anyone else would notice though. I just have good observation." Netherlands answered England's silent question dismissively. Arthur frowned, becoming more suspicious by the second.

"And how come you seem to be able to read me like an open book, Timothee?"

"… I have good observation."

"Uh huh … And why exactly, would you bother observing me? Or, more to the point, what are you looking for in your observation of me?" Arthur's glare turned into curiosity as he leaned forward and closer to the other man.

Timothee Koning's eyes widened slightly and he averted his stare towards the window. Arthur noticed the change and smirked. He was very curious and excited as to what the Netherlander was hiding. Arthur has always been curious by nature and when something sparks his attention, he won't let it go easily.

"_Well_?"

After a few minutes of no-answer, Arthur let out a small chuckle and walked away.

"Whatever! I just came to apologise because I had to. It wasn't by choice. Anyway, I'll leave you to your observation since it seems to be the only thing you do. Oh and please refrain from smoking! I don't care if your window is open. You do _not_ smoke in hospitals!" Arthur scolded the taller man as he reached for the handle of the door.

He turned away and didn't see Tim watching him in a side-glance. Before he could open the door, a larger hand fell on top of his, and Arthur could smell the distinct scent of tobacco. He rolled his eyes, about to turn around and argue. He knew Netherlands could act on whims quite often. What did he want _now_?

"Wait." He heard Tim whisper.

It was unusual to hear the stoic Holland show any sign of emotion besides when talking to his sister Belgium or his anger towards Spain. But Arthur heard the chocked voice in which Tim seemed to have almost begged for him. The Englishman frowned. He had never heard Netherlands speak like that before. It was disturbing and almost scary in a worrying way.

"Tim? What's wrong?" England's voice was not as harsh as before and was now softer with a hint of confusion in it.

Netherlands' hand tighten its grip over England's. For a couple of minutes, Arthur waited but nothing came. Losing patience, the English nation turned around to face the taller one, and his eyes widened slightly at Netherlands' expression. The taller nation had dropped his pipe on the floor, he was leaning over England, his body tensed as if it were refraining something. His face was the biggest change: He wasn't firm and stoic anymore. He looked worried and angry. Very angry. His iron eyes were blazing in an unusual fire and he kept gritting his teeth like he wanted to speak but couldn't find the strength to do so. His body shivered when he crossed eyes with England and Arthur noticed how he immediately averted his gaze, determined not to meet his own emerald orbs.

"Timothee, answer me." It was a firm order and Arthur knew that would be the only way for him to get any answer at all. Timothee clenched his fist, his stare focused on the ground.

"… It's nothing." He sighed, slowly releasing England's hand.

Before Arthur could argue, he felt his lips being taken by Tim's. The blonde's eyes widened in confusion. Italy was one thing but _Netherlands_? The taller man blocked Arthur on both sides by placing his hands against the door on either side of the island nation. He leaned in further and deepened his kiss. It took a few seconds for Arthur to register but when he did, he pushed/punched Tim away, both breathing heavily.

"What the fuck …?" Arthur mumbled out of breath, eyes glaring at the other.

Tim shrugged, adjusting his scarf and positively avoiding eye contact with the angry England. Of course, he couldn't tell Arthur that he felt jealous and angry. That would be ridiculous. But how else could he explain his behaviour just now? It couldn't be passed as an accident and they were both perfectly sober. All he could do now is pretend this never happened. Why did he do it anyway? He was only going to let England leave and then … then something snapped. If only he could go back in time and change this! Netherlands knew from England's glare that he would not get away with this without a satisfying explanation.

"Netherlands. Please explain to me your behaviour before the urge of killing you right this instant over-powers me. You have ten seconds, starting _now_." England's voice was cold and leaking of murderous intents. Oh dear … he really was mad, wasn't he?

Netherlands sighs and starts counting seconds in his head. 1 … 2 … 3 … 4 … … He really should just answer now. But would England accept this? Would he be able to accept his explanation? 7 … 8 … 9 … … Netherlands' gaze dropped back on the smaller man in front of him and met his emerald glare. God, he had such gorgeous eyes!

"I don't know." His voice didn't crack as he spoke.

England raised an eyebrow sceptically. Of course he wouldn't be satisfied with that. Especially after what happened at the meeting. Just thinking of the meeting made Tim's blood boil in rage. He clenched his fist and proceeded to explain.

"I … … I like your eyes."

"What?" England chocked, his emerald eyes wide in astonishment.

Ok, not so well on the explaining part yet. Netherlands fidgeted nervously and it looked incredibly comical to see _the_ Netherlands fidgeting like teenage girl confessing to her long time crush. Very comical. And Arthur would be laughing his lungs out if the 'crush' wasn't him.

"What on bloody earth are you …"

"And your hair. I like how they shine under the sun like pure gold. I like your cream skin. It's not pale white like the Nordics but it's not tanned like Spain or the other Mediterranean nations. I like your hands, how they seem so thin and delicate but have strength beyond belief. But I like your face the most. Your stoic face, similar to mine, I've looked at it for so long … I can tell every time you're angry, happy, sad, mocking, depressed, excited … I like watching the small changes in your face. The twitches of your eyebrows, the cornered smiles, the faint blush on your cheeks, all of it. I like your irony and your attitude. I think you should be less reserved but, I still like that. I like the way keep telling people off or when you just ignore them or how you care for others. I like your voice and I like the sound of your accent. I could stare at you and listen to you for ages without getting bored and it still wouldn't be enough! You asked me why I observe you? What there is to observe? Everything. Everything about you, I want to see. I want to know all about you. I like observing you, Arthur."

Arthur blinked once … twice … three times … Did he hear right? He could stop staring agape at the nervous man before him. Timothee kept shifting his eyes everywhere except towards England, his ears where crimson red to the point where they looked covered in paint. A pinkish blush covered his cheeks and he kept twisting his fingers nervously. Is that really _Netherlands_?

"… Wha …?" Arthur mouthed, his voice barely audible.

"I … I didn't plan on kissing but I felt angry and … I really, really like you, Arthur. I've liked you since the 17th century. I felt really angry because of yesterday and … I just … I'm not satisfied with just observing anymore. I want more … I want so much … more." Tim whispered the last words as he leaned in closer, pecking Arthur's lips gently.

His hands moved around the Briton, holding him against the door. Tim's grey eyes glanced hesitantly and cautiously towards the other and he saw Arthur's face turning redder by the seconds. The smaller blond kept opening and closing his mouth like a fish, trying to speak but unable to make a sound. Tim smirked and started to trail kisses and licks down the other's neck. He undid the first few buttons of Arthur's shirt, hungrily working his way downwards. Arthur tasted so sweet … How he had wanted to do this, Timothee couldn't remember the last time he had felt this happy and excited. He already felt his own arousal becoming painful.

"Stop … Let go … now." Arthur breathed out.

The English nation tried moving but was firmly pinned to the door. It was already too late. Tim had lost all self-control. Even if he wanted to, he felt unable to stop … or maybe he wanted this too much to be able to stop? Whatever the reason, he didn't stop.

"Sorry …" He whispered while pressing himself closer to Arthur.

He knew that his actions were making Arthur hard too. Maybe he was being unfair but right now, Tim had no regrets or second thoughts about what he was doing. He wanted this. He had wanted this for so long. He wanted Arthur. He wanted more than just to be able to look at him. He wanted to feel him, to touch him, to … to love him. Unfair? Yes, it was unfair. But love isn't fair.

He inhaled deeply and smiled. Saltiness, fresh forest and mint. He was half expecting tea but even if Arthur's scent had been tea, it would have been just as perfect.

"You … smell like mint."

"… You smell like smoke. Let me go … _now_!" Arthur hissed back, refraining a moan as Tim's hand rubbed against his crotch.

"… I'm sorry Arthur … I'm not addicted to tobacco, you know."

"Really? Could have fooled me!" Arthur's voice kept hissing, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"But I am addicted … I'm addicted to you. I really … really love you."

"… Oh so it's all fine then! Now I'm going to delightedly let you rape me, is that it?"

"… Please Arthur … I can't … I've been holding back so badly … you have no idea how much it hurts."

"What if I don't fucking care!"

Suddenly, Tim pulled Arthur from the door and pushed him on the nearby, hospital bed. Arthur breathed a bit more calmly but couldn't catch his breath for long since he soon felt his mouth taken hostage.

"… And you taste like tobacco too, bastard."

Tim chuckled, holding the other down by the wrist, his larger body immobilising the smaller one beneath him. The smell of tobacco invaded the room as the abandoned pipe let a small trail of smoke rise next to the bed. Arthur clenched his fists and gritted between his teeth.

"At least, get rid of that pipe! You do NOT smoke in hospitals!"

"… It helps me. Smoking helps me keep calm. When I dropped it, I lost all control. I'm sorry Arthur but you're just too much."

"Bloody hell! Let go! No! Wait!"

"… I'm can't … I've already waited for too long. If I wait longer, you'll be taken."

"Wait! What? If this is about the meeting and Italy …"

Tim's face turned murderous instantly at the sound of Italy's name. Arthur felt a sudden fear as he saw the drastic change in the man's features. He had never seen such an angry Netherlands.

"Do. Not. Mention. It. Again."

Out of reflex, Arthur almost nodded but held back and gulped down. He suddenly felt seriously threatened by the other in more than one way.

"… Let me go." He whispered.

"No."

The door collapsed to the floor, ripped off the wall.

The two nations in bed turned to see a vision of Hell. Arthur sighed in relief and Tim seemed to suddenly realise what he was doing and what he was now going to face. Standing still in the door way was a crimson red headed demon with emerald eyes glaring with insanity. Scotland coldly looked down at his brother, shirt open, being pinned down to the bed and some tobacco addicted country hovering above him. The new comer slowly picked up the abandoned pipe and examined it quietly. His glare … if you could call that a glare … then shifted towards the Netherlander.

"Smoking isn't allowed within this building."

The pipe snapped in two and Scott's emeralds met Arthur's. The blond tried to free himself but, still Netherland was still holding him down.

"Drop it now." Scott hissed threateningly.

He must have been very threatening since only few things would scare Netherlands. Immediately Arthur felt the other's weight shift and let him move. He didn't need to be told twice and quickly got off the bed, buttoning up his shirt in a hurry. He felt his older brother pull him away from Netherlands. Scotland was so tensed that England could see the veins of his body almost bursting out. He was still majorly furious against Netherlands for tricking him but he didn't want Scotland to kill anyone and break down the hospital … like at the meeting. Arthur placed a calming hand over his brother's shoulder.

"I'm fine." He whispered.

The other nodded, eyes still locked on his next victim.

"The sign said no smoking." Scotland continued, uninterrupted.

Both England and Netherlands frowned in confusion. What did he mean?

"If I see you break the rule again … I'll break you."

Netherlands nodded submissively as he felt the overwhelming aura of Scotland. He glanced at England, he gaze softened slightly, filled with lust and regret. A low growl from Scotland reminded him of the rules: Smoking Forbidden. He would have to postpone his addiction for little longer.

Netherlands sighed after the two brothers had left the room. He picked up his broken pipe and threw in in the nearby bin. He'll need a new one. Otherwise, he might lose control again and there won't be a second chance. He'll need permission to smoke next time. But will he get it? If only.


	9. Chapter 8 Lurking in the shadows

**Lurking in the shadows**

"ARTHUR! I tol'ye tah be careful, didnea?"

"Yes, I know but … I didn't expect Tim to …"

"Oh! So 'is name's Tim, eh?"

"Scott, you know it's not like that! I just got surprised and before I knew it he was on me."

"Aye! An' ye were lucky I came tah check on ye! If tha bastard gets near ye 'gain I'll kill him!"

"Please don't … I'm already having enough trouble already so don't add me a murder case."

"Then stop lettin' wankers catch ye!"

"Catch me? I'm not a rabbit, git! I can defend myself! I was just caught off guard here! It won't happen again!" Arthur's gaze hardened as he spoke and his voice grew more profound and serious.

Scott watched him then sighed. He knew that when his brother got that look, he was serious.

"Ye better not. I'll be watchin'."

"I was just going to apologise for your mess, might I add, and he sort off … uh … jumped on me … I didn't really follow what was happening and then we were on the bed and you showed up … God, I hate myself right now!"

"An' ye should! He was goin' tah …"

"I KNOW! But how was I to expect _Netherlands_ to do something like that? France, Spain or Prussia wouldn't surprise me but _Netherlands_? How could I have bloody known?"

"… Jist don't let it happen 'gain."

"I won't. Definitely won't."

Neither of the two brothers noticed the shadow exiting his room as they walked past it. The man looked at them, curiosity sparkling in his ruby eyes. His gaze remained a little longer on Arthur before he licked his lips, revealing sharp fangs.

"… Something fun seems to be going on."

The man grinned and his curious stare became slightly wary as he considered Scott. He drifted back to Arthur as he processed what had been said. His bloody red eyes darkened slightly and he bit his lip till blood dripped out.

"Hm … Netherlands did? Tss Tss … Not good, Arty. Not good at all."

He brushed his peach blond hair back, his tiny hat tilted to the side, and walked away into the empty corridors. He chuckled silently, unnoticed by others, passing by like a shadow.

"Tss Tss! Not good at all. I can't have that, can I?"

The cloaked figured vanished in sudden mist as if he had never been there.


	10. Votes Results

**Votes Results**

Alright guys! You voted (or not but then you have nothing to complain about) and here are the results that helped me make chapter 7 and probably the chapters soon to come up!

First of all though, let me say this one thing: You people have a more deranged minds than mine. Most of you suggested we simply let Scotty in charge of the end of the world in 2012. Now I have no problem with that at all! I'm British so I don't care! But you do realise your dooming more than half of the world here, right? We might need to change the world map soon …

**Reviewed map of the world … after Scotty happily followed everyone's advice of killing the others:**

Tiny British Isles in the middle of the Atlantic and the nutters of the Middle East who were too busy with their own issues to bother with the rest of the world. South America still remains due to neutrality and had a laugh enjoying the show. Africa … as busy as the Middle East, personal issues made it unaware of anything else. Expansion of the oceans.

That's an interesting result. I don't mind but if my inspiration gets killed, what the fuck will I write about? I can't pair England if nobody's there to be paired! X((

I also feel a bit sorry for the victims and their crushed hearts … nah, I'm not! Who am I kidding? I don't feel even an ounce of pity for them! I just love to torment my toys! *dark sadistic evil grin* I would be bored if I couldn't crush a few hearts here and there! Anyway, for now, let's try to have a less 'end of the world' kind of scenario and a more 'they lived happily ever after … surviving the wrath of Scotland' scenario. It might end with dead nations but for now, let's assume not.

That leaves us with the following votes:

_2012 catastrophe brought by Scotty = 12 (personally, I'd vote for that XD)_

**Pairing out (yep there are still people hoping … not gonna happen but I don't mind stating your opinion. I already state my own so it's only fair):**

_FrUk = 5_

_UsUk = 2_

**Pairings still in:**

As you can all see we are having a showdown between Spain and Russia! I didn't expect that! Two completely different nations with opposite personality! It would be fun to see them compete against each other! Spain is just a little bit in the lead. And I have nothing to do with that! I'm being completely objective!

_SpUk = 14_

_RomaUk = 5_

_ItaUk = 4_

_GerUk = 6_

_RusUk = 13_

_NorUk = 8_

_PrUk = 7_

_ChiUk = 4_

_JapUk = 6_

_AusUk (as in Austria) = 1_

_IndiaUk = 1_

_NethUk = 3_

**Threesomes (yes someone asked for that!):**

_Ita-Roma-Uk = 1 (that definitely looks fun!)_

_Magic trio = 1_

If you guys want a threesome, I don't mind except that I've never written one before. I guess there's a first time for everything but on long term, I'm not sure that's a healthy relationship :S Poor England getting played around by crazy fan girls XD

**Britcest:**

_England x Wales = 6 (just so you all know, I promote Wales too when it comes to Britcest! Him or Northern Ireland but she's a girl in my OC)_

_England x Ireland = 3_

**Nations to be kicked out:**

_Netherlands = 3_

_China = 4_

_Japan = 2_

_Norway = 1_

_Spain = 2_

_Prussia = 2_

_India = 2_

_Germany = 1_

**Lovers to be added:**

_Romania = 11_

_Portugal = 4_

_Australia = 2_

_New Zealand = 1_

_Denmark = 5_

_Other Nordics = 1_

_Switzerland = 1_

Now question time! First of all, did you like the first attempt featuring Netherlands? It might have gone a tiny wee bit too far … and Scotland's mad at me right now. England is sulking somewhere and Netherland went to buy a new pipe. Oh well! Hope you all enjoyed it.

Also since most of you asked for a sexy vampire … you got one! Sorry it's so short but that's just his introduction! We'll see more of Romania ;)

So what do you think now? Did Netherland do good enough to be kept or kicked out? I'll leave it to you! ;p Please note that those results are completely honest and I didn't vote myself (if I had, Scotty would receive an extra vote XD). I don't mind if you keep sending me new votes or new opinions as the story goes on. And as some people requested, I might do more than one possible endings. Maybe one for each or at least most nations? I'm not sure yet. Sounds like a lot of extra work XP


	11. Chapter 9 North and South rivalries

Italies

**North and South Rivalry**

Arthur straightened his face until it looked almost like a blank sheet of paper without an ounce of emotion, his lips barely visible as they were pursed together into a thin line. Scott watched his tensed brother with slight amusement. They had visited all the African countries and Greece. Nothing had gone wrong and Scott had made sure to keep his guard up at every moment. After the incident with Netherlands, he wasn't too keen on leaving Arthur apologise on his own. The other three are probably wandering around the hospital, whether they are apologising or not is doubtable. If he could, Scott would just drop this whole 'apology' thing and go back home for a cup of tea. But the Queen's orders are not debatable.

Scott moved towards the next hospital room. He knew why Arthur was tensed. And he himself felt a murderous urge pulse through his body. The next room was the Italy twins.

"Scott … before we go in, promise me not to kill them or harm them in any way." Arthur's tone was undisputable and cold.

The red haired shrugged as he twisted the door handle.

"Nah promisin' anythin' bu' I'll try an' behave."

As soon as the door creaked open, loud shouts resonated across the hall, emanating from the room. Both Britons jumped at the outburst of yells and screams. They rushed inside, shutting the door behind them and stared, mouth open at the battlefield.

Veneziano was arguing in Italian with Romano. They even came to threaten each other with guns. The three missing island siblings that were supposedly 'wandering around the hospital' were in fact all gathered in this room. They had found it essential to come and have a chat with the Italians concerning the previous meeting. And so, Ireland and North were fighting, brawling, yelling, cursing, shooting at each other in a much more violent way than the Italians. Wales was sitting in a chair, watching the show with his usual passiveness. He looked up at the newcomers and greeted them with a sly smile.

"Hiyah guys! Yer late."

Scotland and England watched the fighting, pondering on whether they should stop it or just ignore it. It only took them half a second to each take a seat next to Wales. Arthur sighed as he watched the Northern and Southern counter-parts rip each other apart.

"What is going on _now_?" he asked, glancing at his brown haired brother.

"Nuthin'. We just came an' try apologies like ye asked." The other shrugged.

"Didnae look like an apology tah me." The Scotsman pointed out with a wide grin. He was enjoying this thoroughly.

"Guess nawt."

"Scott, shut up. Connor, explain to me why you _all_ had the bright idea of coming here? I said to apologise to _every_ nation. I don't remember telling you to _specifically_ see the Italies."

"Well … we did kinda wan'ed taw tell 'em nawt taw mess with ye … sorta."

"I knew it. Jesus, guys, can't you just let it go?" Arthur rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Scott already nearly killed Netherlands so I don't want anymore …"

"He was tryin' tah rape ye! He was kissin' an' on top o' ye!" Scott started to yell with dark daggers shooting from his eyes at no one in particular or maybe at an imaginary Netherlands.

Connor's expression changed from passive and careless to demonic with murder written all over his face. He looked at his younger brother with warning eyes, checking him out for anything … _anything_ that the Netherlander bastard might have done to HIS little Arthur!

"Wot?" His voice was sweet and honey coated. Not the usual bland tone with 'I don't give a shit' attitude.

Arthur watched in horror, the sweet smile growing on his brother's face. It was very similar to Russia's but the difference here, is that Russia always smiles like that. When Wales smiles like that, it means: dead body in a dark alley the next morning. It had been a long time since Arthur had last seen this smile and heard that smoothing voice coming from his brother. And he had hoped not to see it for a much longer time.

"Nothing! Scott. Shut. Up! Nothing happened! It's all in the past and I'm perfectly fine!" Arthur laughed nervously as he tried to ease the growing tension around Connor's dark aura.

Thankfully, Scott seemed to have noticed the change in his brown haired younger brother. He cursed in his breath. As much as he would love to see the cold body of Netherlands in a dark alley tomorrow, he knew that it wasn't safe … for _anyone_, to let Wales lose control.

"Aye, like Arty said! Nuthin' tah worry 'bout! I dealt wi' tha bastard so ye jist sit back an' relax!"

Connor frowned slightly, his emerald eyes now turning into a much darker green than usual as he switched back and forth between the red haired and the blond. What was prevented here should probably require Netherlands' eternal gratitude towards the Italians. Romano had started shooting at his brother while Veneziano ducked with a yelp. The girlish sound he made caught Connor's attention. He obviously still had business to sort out with the Mediterranean countries before thinking about Netherlands. Both Arthur and Scott sighed in relief. At least, that's one catastrophe avoided. Now … onto the next one.

Connor's hand trailed down towards the cricket bat (he still hadn't given it back to Australia yet) resting next to his seat. Arthur glanced warningly at Scott and both decided to stop the fighting before Connor decides to take charge.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid South!" North suddenly felt two arms warp around her waist, restricting her.

She growled like a savage beast, raised her gun … guns and glanced at the person holding her. Her body immediately relaxed and her face softened when she met emeralds just as vibrant as her own and the distinctive golden hair of her adored brother. Dropping all her artillery … meaning: _a lot_ … she swung her arms around Arthur's neck and hugged him to the point of nearly chocking him. Arthur was still holding her smaller body, half carrying her, half restraining her. Ireland, on the other hand had been caught by two strong arms, holding him firmly by the shoulders. The Irish nation had hissed death threats at 'whoever dares to challenge him' until he noticed the crimson, blood coloured hair of his sibling. He glared angrily at the Scots' cheeky grin. Wales watched the whole display, his passive attitude back to normal and he even looked bored. The Italians had frozen in place with Romano towering his younger brother, both pointing guns at each other's throat. Their amber eyes watched as the UK and Ireland sorted out their personal issues.

Arthur released his sister when he felt that there wouldn't be another fight any time soon. Wales should have known better than to allow North and Ireland to be together in the same room! _Honestly_, was he the only sane one in the lot? And he wasn't even sure he was sane at all!

"Alright … can someone _please_ explain to me what the bloody fucking hell is going on here?" Arthur's voice was strong and authoritative as his eyes scolded each of the nations present (except Scotland who was having a laugh about the whole thing). Fiona pouted while pointing at Patrick. The Irish man simply ignored Arthur's question. And the Italians were fidgeting nervously, staring at the ground in an awkward silence.

"ts'is fault. He started it." Fiona mumbled while glaring furiously at her ginger sibling.

"What did Pat do _now_?" Arthur refrained the exasperation from leaking out too much from his voice.

It wasn't new that Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland hated each other. But the past few years some improvement actually made it liveable between the two. Well, at least they didn't fight every second of every day for any random reason … sometimes they don't even need a reason. Nevertheless, Arthur had hoped to improve the two ginger siblings' relationship … so far not much success.

"We're goin' to apologise like you said bu' th'n Ireland said he wan'ed to make tha two Italian bastards fly. He was goin' to throw Romano owt tha window an' I tald 'im not to! _Because you said to apologise._" She sounded acid on that last sentence.

Obviously her personal preference would have been to throw the Italies out the window too. But being in constant disagreement with Ireland she couldn't help but contradict him.

"I said I'll make 'em fly jist ta scare th' shite owt o' 'em." Ireland mumbled with a sulking face.

Arthur sent a scolding look at Connor who pretended to be asleep. He considered that he had nothing to do with this! He maybe should have stopped the fight but it sounded too bothersome. Arthur's glare switched back to his ginger siblings.

"Basically you just had another fight." He concluded.

"Oi! He started it! I tried to stop 'im!" Fiona replied furiously.

"Ye li'lle pipsqueak! Ye jist wan'ed to disagree with me like all' time!" Pat barked back.

And here we go again. North and South forgot all about their surrounding s and another vicious fight erupted. Arthur watched them blankly before giving up. Scott was laughing his lungs out, rolling on the floor as he watched the argument escalate. Connor had stopped pretending to sleep and was now _really_ fast asleep. Arthur ignored his insane siblings and turned to face the Italians.

Romano avoided meeting the blonde's eyes or even looking at Arthur as a whole. Instead, his chocolate eyes kept glancing around the room, often stopping on Arthur's siblings with mild fear. Veneziano was weeping 've' noises while staring straight at his feet, fidgeting and fiddling with his fingers nervously. Both wore a very deep blush when Arthur walked up to them. Arthur's expression softened at them. He really couldn't stay angry at them. After all … the kiss hadn't been … that bad. He smirked unconsciously, licking the corner of his lips. He wondered what else could have happened. He did find both Italies very hot and he did tend to favour tanned people … uh nations … rather than pale white or very dark skinned. He remembered having a crush on Portugal at some point and later on, on Spain. Lost in his memories, Arthur's position shifted, only slightly but enough to let his body relax and lean to the side in a seductive manner. His feral aura grew around him and the hidden spark of his pirate side grew ever so present in his jade-like eyes. His eyes slightly dazed, he didn't realise that the Italians were now watching him with growing blushes and Scott's expression further back was growing darker. Arthur blinked, leaving aside his memory and his charisma tuned down as he returned to normal. Arthur focused back on the situation at hand, dismissing all thoughts of Spain or Portugal aside. He smiled gently at the Italians, noticed that they immediately averted their eyes away and Veneziano started to tremble slightly.

"Sorry about my siblings. They tend to go over-board."

"It's fine." Lovino mumbled while Feliciano remained quiet.

Arthur nodded, concern showed in his eyes as he watched Feliciano. The North Italian seemed to be shaking and avoiding getting anywhere near England. Why? Wasn't he the one who kissed him yesterday? Oh, right! He was still scared, uh? England remembered that Italy, both of them were scared of him, especially during the world wars. While Romano seemed to have gotten over that fear, Veneziano still hid and ran away screaming each time he saw England. Well, he wasn't screaming yet but he kept avoiding too much contact with the blond.

"Are you alright, Feliciano?"

The Italian jumped at the call of his name, his head snapped upwards and his chocolate eyes met the emerald, concerned ones of Arthur. He felt his face grow brighter than Spain's tomatoes and he shook his head affirmatively, not trusting his voice. Romano was glaring slightly at his brother but didn't argue. Instead he humphed and walked off to his bed, royally ignoring everyone and the chaos in his room. Arthur looked at the Southern part of Italy in confusion. What's his problem? No, forget it! Just apologise and leave.

Arthur bowed his head forward, surprising Feliciano and Lovino. The latter one only stared from his bed, while the younger brother squeaked 've' and fidgeted even more than before in front of Arthur.

"I apologise for the trouble and potential harm that my siblings have caused you. I hope you have received everything you needed in this hospital and I will listen to any of your complaints."

Arthur's tone was formal and official. The same way he used with the previous nations he apologised to. He now knew this line by heart inside out. Just that thought was depressing him. He _really_ hated apologising to _anyone_! Scott was trying to wake up his sleeping brother … or maybe he was just having fun pissing him off while the other was unconscious. Ireland and North had interrupted their fight to watch their blond sibling apologise. North had sparkles of adoration in her eyes while Ireland muttered some 'arrogant brat' and such in his breath while glancing at England.

England lifted his head up, waiting for an answer. He lifted a concern eyebrow as he met an intense silence in the room, only interrupted by Scott's chuckles and Connor's sleeping groans. For all he was worth, Scotland could be extremely childish. Arthur didn't even bother telling him off (it would have been pointless) and watched Italy's reaction. As a start Feliciano smiled shyly at the Briton, face flushed but beaming while Romano turned his back on them, hiding his intense blush.

"Veee~ You don't have to apologise, England. We're fine. Right, Fratello?"

No answer.

"_Right. Fratello_." Feliciano's tone instantly grew cold and threatening. A soft mumble answered back.

"… Shut up."

"Ve! Forgive him, Fratello is very shy!"

"No … It's fine. Well, I'm sorry for the inconvenience and the meeting will be reported to Thursday if that's alright with you?" Arthur tried to keep a business-like expression but it wasn't easy when Feliciano kept glancing at him shyly and beaming like a delighted child. He could hear Lovino mutter but couldn't make out what he was saying.

"S-Si! That's fine! Right Fratello?"

"…"

" .Lo."

"Whatever dammit."

"He's fine with it! Veee~"

"Um … O-k."

Arthur stared at the strange exchange between the two brothers. He wasn't sure if they got along or if they both lived in a different world from one another. Then again … Arthur glanced at his Irish siblings who started fighting again and at Wales who had woken up and was chasing Scotland with his cricket bat … Then again, considering his own family, who was he to talk? Arthur sighed in exasperation.

"Veeee~ Arthur?"

"Yes?" Arthur drew his attention back to the Italian.

"Ve~ Have you … Are you … veeee … do you want to go out for coffee? Ve, not today but sometime?" Feliciano mumbled almost inaudibly.

Lovino's head snapped like scissors and his murderous mafia glare froze on his brother. Arthur's siblings were too busy to pay attention but Arthur stared at North Italy with wide eyes. He thought for a minute. Italy was nice and attractive … why not? It's inly coffee … for now. It would give him a chance to get to know the Italian nation. England shrugged.

"Sure. Why not."

"Ve? Really? Aren't you mad?"

"Mad? About yesterday? Not really … I'm just surprised is all. But coffee sounds nice. And we can get to know each other before I give you an answer."

"Si! Grazie!"

Feliciano jumped to hug the blushing Briton. Lovino never stopped glaring at them until Arthur finally left the room, dragging his infuriated siblings with him (they had mistaken Feliciano's hug as a sexual assault! Dear me! They are quite the over protective squad of siblings, aren't they?).

"Cheap shot." Lovino mumbled acidly at his grinning brother.

Feliciano's carefree expression turned as cold and dark as his southern brother. A mocking smirk twisted his lips.

"No rule in love, Fratello. You know that." His voice was sweet and innocent but as cold as ice.

Romano's eyes burned of an enraged fire but his body remained perfectly still, like a statue.

"Chi! Coffee won't get you far, Stupido."

"Si? It will get me further than you~"

Romano's face contorted itself in a devil's mask and his usually amber-chocolaty eyes had turned blood red. Feliciano's own face was a cold, expressionless mask with only an icy smirk adorning it and the same blood red eyes. Fire meeting ice, the two brothers stood absolutely still in the quiet room, barely whispering to each other with only the sound of their calm breathing.

"For now, Bastardo, for now. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"I don't need to, since I already am ahead! Ahead from you and ahead from all the others." Feliciano sang in a low whisper.

"Like I said: for now." Romano laughed mockingly.

They challenged each other with a glare for a long while until deciding that they had had enough fighting for today. Each walked to his bed to rest. Lovino listened to his Ipod while Feliciano drew sketches in his sketchpad.

"Il mio amore …" the North Italian whispered to the small sketch of Arthur which he had just finished. "Tutto il mio! Il mio!" (_Translation: "My love" "All mine! Mine!"_)

**And that's it for now! Sorry everyone but I won't be able to write or update anything in the next three or four weeks. I'm off to Italy and eat pasta! XD So I'll be very busy and sadly without a computer :'( **

**So, until then, I'll think of tones of new ideas for the next chapters! Thank you all for your support, for reading and enjoying (I hope) this story, and being patient until my next updates! Thanks for your reviews, votes and comments! They are all really helpful!**

**A presto! ;)**


	12. Chapter 10 Just neighbours

Republic of Ireland

**Just Neighbours**

Arthur tried to work. His mind is completely focused on his paperwork (and the bills for the building destruction and medical care of other countries). He was NOT disturbed by the watchful eyes of the man sitting peacefully in the far end corner of his room. Arthur's eyebrows twitched and he glared up at Ireland.

"What?" the blond growled in anger.

Patrick smirked and only shrugged in response.

They had managed to apologise to every single nation in the fucking hospital. The Queen was delighted to hear that. And they did it all without murdering anyone. Oh the joy! Arthur had now a vague idea of potential nations interested in him but he couldn't be sure. And his siblings weren't taking any risks and would try to intimidate anyone within a meter's distance of England. Frankly, Arthur couldn't give a flying fuck anymore! All he wanted was to get rid of all those wankers and send them back home! Bloody stupid conference!

And now, he's stuck with _that_ git! Great! Peachy! Delightful! Just what he needed! Luckily North isn't around the house today. Arthur might not have a house anymore if she were. But since she went to visit Her Majesty, that means Arthur still has a roof to sleep under tonight. Scotland and Wales are finding another place to host the conference and organising the whole thing for tomorrow. That leaves Arthur with all the paperwork (as usual) and … Ireland. Now what the bleeding fuck does he want now? He'd better get rid of him before North comes back.

"Ireland, what do you want?" Arthur hissed in irritation.

The oldest of the British siblings and the only one not part of the UK, the Republic of Ireland simply grinned like an excited child at his youngest brother. Despite being older, Ireland was slightly smaller than England by one inch or so but he was still taller than Wales (Scotland is the tallest of them all). His face is paler than Arthur's and covered in freckles. His bright, fiery ginger hair was long and tied in a lose pony tail. Thick eyebrows and emerald eyes, the trademark of the Kirklands. He was short but broadly built with strong shoulders. The most childish of them all, he's good natured but has a very pronounced addiction to fights and beer. Expert in magic, he never misses a chance to use it but always remains discreet. Great at jokes and playing pranks, he likes to cause trouble and disagree with people … especially his brothers but he always keeps a watch out for them. He often likes to keep an eye on Arthur during world conferences and will _never_ admit that he feels proud of his younger brother. NEVER. He cares for his siblings but likes to piss them off and particularly England and Northern Ireland. He cannot stand his younger sister and always gets in fight when the two of them are within three meters of each other.

"Just here to help you pay the bill. I did kind of participate in the whole thing." Patrick smiled sheepishly but the gleam in his eyes showed no remorse whatsoever for what he has done.

"Fine. Thanks. I get that. But what are you doing hanging around? If Fiona comes back, she'll …"

"Oh bugger off! Forget about the little lass! She's a real pain sometimes!"

"… And you're not?" Arthur lifted an eyebrow on his deadpan look.

"Course not! I'm adorable!" The other laughed loudly in a deep voice like a bear.

"Riiiight! Of course!" Arthur rolled his eyes and focused back on his paperwork.

He ignored the sound of his brother getting up and walking behind him, spying over his shoulder.

"… Aren't you bored with all those numbers and stuff?" he inquired with a fake curiosity, only aiming to distract Arthur and have fun.

"I am but someone has to do it eventually and since Connor cannot look at paperwork without falling asleep, Scott just avoids doing it unless I'm there to keep an eye on him and Fiona tries to use magic to make the paperwork do it by itself, that leaves me with the 'boring numbers' as you say."

"Don't get all touchy! Here! I'll help!"

"No."

"Why?"

"You'll make it worse."

"Aw! That's mean! I do my paperwork for my country!"

"Yes and it's a mess. I don't want you anywhere near those sheets of paper … Patrick! Give it back! Come back here you bloody bastard!"

Arthur ran after his laughing brother who had taken off with a handful of his papers. He chased the laughing ginger out in the back garden where Ireland stopped and used a spell to make sheets float ten feet above his head, safe from Arthur's reach. The blond growled angrily and mumbled a counter-spell in his breath. It didn't work. Of course it didn't work! Arthur knows that Ireland is so much better than him at magic! In fact, he had never been able to beat him at that! Nobody can beat Ireland when it comes to magic … or maybe Wales but he so lazy he hardly uses his powers.

"Tut tut! You know you can't beat me with magic, little bro!" Ireland grinned like a devil.

"Just give the damn thing back! I need it!"

"Let me think … hm … Nah! Don't wanna!"

Arthur's face started to grow flushed from his rising anger. Only a few more tease and he will definitely kill the bastard! Ireland didn't seem threatened at all and enjoyed teasing his brother. He doesn't get a chance to do it much because North is always around to stop him. It has … been a while since he could have some time alone with Arthur. Patrick's eyes shimmered slightly of nostalgia but it was only for a brief moment and he never lost his smile.

"Patrick … This is not funny. Give me back those papers." Arthur's voice grew into a low threat. Again, Patrick just laughed it off.

"Make me!"

In an instant, the blond jumped on his brother, tackling him to the ground. They wrestled for 20 minutes before Arthur managed to pin the other down. The time when he was small and weak and the one always being pinned was now long gone and Arthur could certainly overpower his older brother. In fact, the only one of his siblings who he couldn't beat would be Scott. They tended to end with draws against each other.

"Good job, Arty!" Patrick laughed.

Unconsciously, Arthur let out a small breath of relief and an excited smile adorned his face. It had been a while since he could have fun with Patrick like that.

"You've grown weak, Pat."

"Me? Weak? Watch your mouth, little bugger! I was going easy on you! Can still beat the shit out of you, little Arthur!"

"Ha! I'd like to see you try!"

They both panted loudly as they got back up on their feet.

"That was fun!" Ireland grinned at his younger brother.

"Yeah." The other replied with the same, adrenaline filled grin.

"Here. Your _precious_ papers, your majesty!" Patrick teased sarcastically while handing over the floating papers.

"Shut up!" Arthur laughed.

The blond looked down at his papers and decided that he wasn't in the mood to work anymore. He mumbled under his breath and the sheets floated off to his office room threw an open window. Ireland eyed his brother quizzically. England then lay down on the soft grass of his garden, breathing the soft, sweet smell of his flowers, mainly roses. He felt his brother join him and they both stared at the unusual blue sky of England.

"… What did Queeny say?"

"She was satisfied once I told her that we apologised for all the trouble."

"She sounds nice."

"Yeah, you'd like her."

"I'm not interested in monarchy anymore."

"I meant as a person, wanker!"

"And I hadn't figured it out myself, arrogant brat!"

They both chuckled childishly. Patrick always lightened the mood and he was a really good company. Arthur felt his eyelids drop, the soft breeze ruffling his hair more than usual. He didn't notice the watching emerald eyes of his brother, strained on him with a touch of regret in them.

"… I miss you guys." Patrick whispered softly.

Arthur smiled, his eyes remaining closed.

"Yeah. We miss you too. You and your stupid jokes. Even North although I don't think you'll get her to admit it!"

"Ha ha! No guess not. But she can be a pain sometimes!"

"Look who's talking!"

"Well, she clings to you like you a safety jacket!"

"That's because I'm absolutely perfect! Who wouldn't want to cling to me?" Arthur grinned cheekily, glancing sideways at his brother.

"Arrogant brat!" The other laughed. "… Arthur …"

"Yes?"

Englishman had closed his eyes again and waited for his brother to continue but he only heard some soft breathing near his ear.

"Pat? What is it?"

"… I really … missed you."

Arthur frowned at the unusually controlled tone of his brother. He's never that serious!

"We're not that far away from one another you know. We're still neighbours!"

"… Yeah … but just … neighbours."

Arthur could feel the breathing move from his ear to in front of his face. Very close and very warm breathing … Right. In. Front. Of. His. Face.

"Pat?"

Arthur heard a sudden shift next to him and the breathing disappeared. Instead, he felt a large, rough hand ruffle through his golden hair.

"What the …?"

"I wonder why you're the only one with blond hair …" Patrick mused next to him.

"How the bloody hell should I know? Stop messing up my hair!"

"It's already messed up anyway!"

"Then don't make it worse!"

"Oi! Oi! Keep your knickers on, boyo!" Patrick laughed as he removed his hand stared down at his pouting brother.

It was unusual. Arthur was the only blond but maybe it was due to his Germanic origins and his long contacts with the Nordic countries during Viking invasions. Whatever the reason … Arthur had beautiful hair. Like golden silk, it was thick and soft and even if it looked a mess, it was actually very flowing. You could easily run your fingers through it like flowing water and not find any knot. His skin was of a clean white, smooth and creamy similar to milk. Much nicer than his own, Patrick thought. Arthur's face was also more elegant and refined. Of all the British siblings, his face was the most refined, with gentler features. Elegant and handsome. Patrick was quite amazed to have such a brother. Who would have thought that the shy little cry baby, scared of ghosts would have turned into Arthur. His thick eyebrows were the same as all of them but Arthur's were less imposing dues to the blondness of his hair. It was more discreet and it worked well with his face. His eyes, now closed, are usually filled with irony and sarcasm or were as empty as a nutshell, cold and analysing. It was hard to crack into Arthur's ice wall but once through, Arthur's personality changes all in all. Patrick is so used to seeing the real Arthur, he always finds it amusing when other nations bump against his cold façade. Of course Arthur smiles! He smiles, and laughs, and jokes and likes to have fun! But he's also in charge of his siblings. Being the youngest, he's still the one keeping his older brothers in line and he had to educate North. He's very mature and that always impressed Patrick. The Irish let his gaze trailed down on his brother. He looks so peaceful when he's sleeping.

"… I've missed you all … and especially you."

He leaned forward, closer to the other's face …

"STUPID SOUTH! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Oh joy! North is back!

Ireland cursed and England jumped awake in surprise, hitting his forehead against Ireland's. The two men groan in pain but soon got distracted from it as Fiona literally assaulted her ginger sibling, gun in hand.

"What were you trying to do while Arty was sleeping, uh? WHAT?" She hissed threateningly. Her eyes glaring like those of a predator.

"None of your bloody business, pipsqueak!"

"It is my bloody business because Arty's my bloody brother!"

"Last time I checked, so am I!"

"You don't count!"

"Well, like it or not, he's my brother too!"

"Then why were you leaning over him like that as if you were trying to kiss him?"

"I was just looking at him! Am I not allowed to look at my brother?"

"You didn't have to be this close!"

"Well you're the one to talk, Miss-Obsessive-Possessive-Little-Sister! You're even worse than Belarus!"

"Who the fuck is Belarus? Actually, I don't care!"

"Yeah! Anything not linked with Arthur, you don't care!"

"That's not true! I care for a lot of people! You're just not on the list!"

"But I bet Arthur's top of the list!"

"So what if he is?"

"Oh? So were you jealous? Because I was kissing Arty?"

Fiona froze in shock and a blush covered her freckled face.

"Y-you … k-kissed him?" he voiced trembled in doubt and contain anger.

"… Nah, I didn't . But I could have!" Patrick smirked devilishly.

"Well you better not!"

"And why not? Does he have your name written on his forehead?"

"Closer to being my name than yours!"

"Says who?"

"Says me!"

"See! You're an obsessive bitch!"

"Well you're a perverted bastard!"

"You want to die, brat?"

"Ha! What are _you_ going to do?"

"I'll shut your bloody filthy mouth shut forever!"

"Just try, Ô brother of mine!"

Arthur rubbed his forehead in annoyance. He felt the beginning of a bump. Great. And for once, it wasn't cause by one of Scotland's Glasgow kiss. The blond sighed as he walked back inside the house to finish his paperwork, leaving the two arguing siblings to fight to their heart's contempt in the garden. He didn't even care what they were arguing about. Any reason was valid for them to start a fight and Arthur knew better than to get involved.

Later that evening, Arthur anticipated a headache and a whole lot of work for tomorrow's conference. He fell asleep with depressed thoughts and also … he mildly wondering who were the other nations Scott mentioned to have an eye on him. He'd have to be careful and it could be fun to see which one would make a move on him.

At 3am in the morning, Arthur heard screams coming from Fiona's room and his phone rang. He glanced at the ID caller with a grunt. Oh … It's just his stupid neighbour. Did he and Fiona have a fight in their dreams or what? He'll have to keep an eye on them at the conference.

Arthur threw his phone across the room, not caring if it broke or not. Why did he have such troublesome neighbours? The blond covered his ears with his pillow as Scotland and Wales had joined in the shouting. Why? Why were his neighbours so fucking noisy! At 3am in the morning?


	13. Votes Updates

**Votes Results**

Hey everyone! Thank you all for keeping up with the story! I'm sorry to inform you that I will not be able to update anytime soon for at least a month. I'm going to Sardinia (Italy) for 3 weeks. Lucky me! I get to eat PASTA XD XD But to make up for the wait, I'll make loads of chapters when I come back XD All hot stuff!

I still take in votes. This story isn't even close to its ending so if you have a comment, I'll listen!

I've added new votes to the previous ones so here you'll have the total of votes since the beginning! Spain is in the lead followed closely by Russia and Romania.

Just so you all know, it doesn't matter if your favourite nation isn't popular yet, he might be after I write about him. Like Netherlands' popularity increased after the *slightly rapist kind of thing and I'm sorry Iggy I didn't mean it* chapter. Just tell me which you prefer not which one you think will go through.

Alright, update of the votes:

_2012 catastrophe brought by Scotty = 19 (personally, I'd vote for that XD)_

**Pairings still in:**

Spain is in the lead for now! It might change! So don't stress out people!

_Spain = 24_

_Russia = 17_

_Romania = 17_

_Norway = 12_

_Romano = 7_

_Italy = 4_

_Germany = 8_

_Prussia = 10_

_China = 5_

_Japan = 8_

_Austria = 2_

_India = 3_

_Netherlands = 8_

**Threesomes (yes someone asked for that!):**

_Ita-Roma-UK = 4_

_Magic trio = 6_

_Rus-UK-Ger = 1_

_Ger-UK-Pru = 2_

_Sp-UK-Roma = 1_

Threesomes are insanely popular! I don't know what's going on anymore!

**Showdowns between last two standing:**

_Spain vs Russia = 3_

_Germany vs Prussia = 1_

That's nice and all, a little showdown but … uh … who wins? :p

**Britcest:**

_England x Wales = 12 (just so you all know, I promote Wales too when it comes to Britcest! Him or Northern Ireland but she's a girl in my OC)_

_England x Ireland = 4_

_England x Northern Ireland = 1_

**Nations to be kicked out:**

_Netherlands = 5_

_China = 7_

_Japan = 3_

_Norway = 1_

_Spain = 3_

_Prussia = 2_

_India = 4_

_Germany = 1_

_Austria = 1_

_Italy = 1_

_Romano = 1_

**Lovers or support characters to be added:**

_Portugal = 7 (he's in! I love Portugal and he's got enough votes to join the club!)_

_Denmark = 6 (not sure yet …)_

_Australia = 2_

_New Zealand = 1_

_Hong Kong = 1_

_Greece = 1_

_Other Nordics = 1_

_Switzerland = 2_

_Philippines = 1_

_Seychelles = 1_

And that's it for now! Sorry everyone but I won't be able to write or update anything in the next three or four weeks. I'm off to Italy and eat pasta! XD I'm going to Sardinia to see Romano XD Actually I'm going for a summer job! So I'll be very busy and sadly without a computer :'(

So, until then, I'll think of tones of new ideas for the next chapters! Thank you all for your support, for reading and enjoying (I hope) this story, and for being patient until my next updates! Thanks for your reviews, votes and comments! They are all really helpful!

A presto! ;)


	14. I'm back!

**Votes Results**

Hey guys! I'm back in business! Did you miss me? XD

Here are the update on the votes since last month and I'm giving you two chapters with it! Aren't I nice? Hope you'll enjoy! We have a special Canada chapter (no love or anything, just Canada getting worried for England) and one for USA. I may not like that pairing (mostly because it's way too popular and it's getting old) but that doesn't mean that I can't write about it (he he)!

I'm getting lost with all those votes :S Too many people! Too many nations! My mentality is questionable but now, I feel I'm going insane because I can already picture so many chapters with so many seducing attempts! I'm having soooooo much fun! In the lead: Spain. Not too modest, are you Antonio? I already wrote a fiction with Spain so I was hoping for something different … or a showdown? My little plot bunnies are working full speed now (evil grin).

Alright, update of the votes:

_2012 catastrophe brought by Scotty = 27 (personally, I'd vote for that XD)_

**Pairings still in:**

Spain is in the lead for now! It might change! So don't stress out people!

_Spain = 30_

_Russia = 19_

_Romania = 23_

_Norway = 13_

_Romano = 12_

_Italy = 9_

_Germany = 11_

_Prussia = 11_

_China = 7_

_Japan = 9_

_Austria = 2_

_India = 3_

_Netherlands = 10_

**Threesomes (no guaranty that I'll be doing that):**

_Ita-Roma-UK = 6_

_Magic trio (for those who didn't know, it includes Romania-Norway-England) = 9_

_Rus-UK-Ger = 1_

_Ger-UK-Pru = 3_

_Sp-UK-Roma = 1_

_Rus-UK-Romania = 1_

Threesomes are insanely popular! I don't know what's going on anymore!

**Showdowns between last two standing:**

_Spain vs Russia = 3_

_Germany vs Prussia = 4_

_Spain vs Portugal = 1_

_Italy N vs Italy S = 1_

That's nice and all, a little showdown but … uh … who wins? :p

**Britcest:**

_England x Wales = 16 (just so you all know, I promote Wales too when it comes to Britcest! Him or Northern Ireland but she's a girl in my OC)_

_England x Ireland = 7_

_England x Northern Ireland = 1_

**Nations to be kicked out (I'm just putting all the votes but there is no definite guaranty that your favourite will go out despite appearing in this list. Only the least popular leave):**

_Netherlands = 5_

_China = 8_

_Japan = 3_

_Norway = 2_

_Spain = 6_

_Prussia = 5_

_India = 4_

_Germany = 1_

_Austria = 2_

_Italy = 2_

_Romano = 1_

_Russia = 1_

**Lovers or support characters to be added:**

_Portugal = 13 (he's in! I love Portugal and he's got enough votes to join the club!)_

_Denmark = 9 (not sure yet …I'm worried of having too many people)_

_Australia = 12_

_New Zealand = 2_

_Hong Kong = 1_

_Greece = 1_

_Other Nordics = 1_

_Switzerland = 6_

_Philippines = 2_

_Seychelles = 1_

_Sealand = 1_

Thank you all for your patience and for your helpful reviews. I'm not going to answer you personally like I used to because there's too many of you and I'm getting lost! But I appreciate deeply all of your comments, many have made me feel happy and proud and I hope to make this story as enjoyable as possible! Thank you all and now I'm free to update much faster during the summer holidays! XD

By the way, Sardinia was great! Beautiful island and great food! My Italian improved … I think. And I advise people to visit the place. Except don't get stuck on some lonely mountain with no internet or AC and in a 40degrees summer. A part from that, great place!

**42Lia: Hey, Romano, I'm promoting your country here!**

**Romano: So? What's there not to like about my place?**

**42Lia: It's too hot?**

**Romano: Si, of course I'm hot!**

**42Lia: No, that's not what I meant ... Forget it.**


	15. Chapter 11 Voice of the Invisible

Canada

**Voice of the invisible**

Alfred is not in a good mood. To say the least. In fact, he's fucking furious. Everything was well just a few days ago. He would argue with England, France would disagree with both of them, Prussia would turn up and claim his awesomeness to the world before Hungary starts chasing him with a frying pan, Spain would chase after a cursing Romano, Japan would agree with him and Switzerland would shout at Japan to get his own opinion, Italy would wave his white flag around and Germany would eventually snap and bring order back to the room. That's what should have happened. But it didn't. And the reason for this … was this man.

Alfred's azure eyes narrowed on the blood red haired man sitting in _his seat_ next to Arthur. Scott seemed to have felt the deadly glare of the younger nation on him since he turned around and grinned wickedly at the American. His emerald eyes so identical to Arthur's shone with tease and satisfaction. Alfred hated that man. Every fibre of his being wished to see that man dead.

But Arthur suddenly drew back his older brother's attention, not noticing the deadly exchange between his ex-sibling and his current one. The satisfied grin on Scotland's face as he turned his back on America made the young nation's blood boil in rage.

Next to him, his brother Canada was watching the exchange with wary eyes. His dark blue eyes with a hint of violet clouded in worry as he looked up towards his two former coloniser. England and Scotland had started arguing … again. It looked almost natural and a need for them to argue. It was different from the usual arguments between America and England. Usually, England would patronize his old colony and America would act like a rebelling child. Here … Scotland and England were arguing on the same level. It almost looked like a verbal war. Canada felt his brother's fist clench tightly on the table edge, cracking it and leaving deep finger marks in the wood. He sighed. It's not as if he hadn't known about Alfred's feelings. Hell! He was the one to explain to his brother what those feelings meant!

Matthew smiled as he recalled the shocked face of young Alfred when he told him that he loved Arthur. They were young. This was so long ago … before the Independence war. Matthew often wondered if had he not explained Alfred's feelings to him, if maybe … there wouldn't have been a war? He often felt guilty for having possibly caused the heartbreak of his care-taker. It was obvious that Alfred wanted to gain independence in order to stand on equal foothold with his coloniser. He wanted to show Arthur his worth. Make him see him as more than just a colony or an adoptive brother. And Matthew, more than anybody else, knew how greedy his brother could be.

To be perfectly honest, Matthew was feeling sorry for his 'father'. The Canadian was constantly exasperated and annoyed by his neighbouring brother but he also felt spiteful of his first ever coloniser: Scotland. It was indeed Scotland who came to him first. Needless to say, it went from bad to complete mayhem of hell. Then France took over and although the French man took good care of him, Canada felt sick of being forced into dresses. He could only sympathise with Romano and Italy. And then … England came. His brothers would visit with him sometimes … including Scotland, but England always kept them in line and was a very thoughtful father. He did sometimes confuse him with Alfred but Matthew always remembered how shameful the Englishman felt after he would tell him that he was Canada. Matthew loved England. Not the lover's love. Of course not! If you asked him who he had eyes on, then Canada would shyly reply that he always found Ukrainian girls very attractive. He even told England about it and he remembered the pleased smile of his father and his words of encouragement.

No. Canada loved England as a son would a father. Not a brother. For Canada, his brothers would be all of England's colonies: America (obviously although Canada wished it were otherwise), Australia (nice bloke although a bit weird), New Zealand (he reminded Canada of Wales but with a softer and more smiling attitude), Hong Kong (quiet but nice, Canada always got along with him) and so on.

Many may think of England as a bad parental figure (mostly due to the result of America) but Canada knew better. After spending so much time under British ruling, he was the best to know just how good of a father England was. At first, he was terrible. He would make mistakes and panic when America would make a scene. Canada always tried to make things easier for England. He saw how the man tried hard but having little experience in parenting, it took him time to learn the tricks. But once he did … Canada knew that all the colonies that came after him had gotten the best of England. It was no mistake that Canada never left England's side. He would always … always be there to support his father. Being an Empire wasn't easy. And Canada had only admiration for his care-taker. Even now.

"Hey! What's that bastard doing to Arty?" Canada heard America whisper angrily. He looked up to see his brother gripping what's left of the table edge, a vein pulsing dangerously out of his temple and his clear blue eyes locked murderously on Scotland.

Canada turned to watch the red haired tease his younger brother by poking his cheek and whispering things in his ear. The exasperated Englishman seemed to be so used to this that he didn't even bother getting angry and would just snap short replies, emeralds growing darker by the minute. Canada never understood. He never understood why Arthur seemed to forgive everything to his red haired brother. Scotland had freedom to break him if he wanted too and yet Arthur would still forgive him. Of course, Canada knew that the same applied reciproqually. It was strange. Matthew didn't get along with Scotland. That much, everyone who had seen them together in the same room could tell. It's not as if Scotland didn't like Canada. It's more like he didn't understand the concept of holding back. And Canada had a feeling that England did NOT have an easy childhood with his siblings. Nevertheless, Matthew was still bit cold towards the red haired and he knew Scotland to still be pissed at him. Skip the details but it really wasn't beneficial for either of them.

Yet … Arthur, who was Scott's brother, was completely different. Canada watched as other nations around the large conference table were glaring furiously at the pair of brothers. Wales, of course was asleep. North was having her own little argument with Ireland and nobody bothered stopping them or even paid attention to them. Wise choice if you don't want to die.

_**Crack**_

Canada's eyes darted in panic at the large crack in the already broken side of the table in which his brother was sitting. England will not be happy once he sees his table break chip by chip. America was growling in his breath and Canada recognised frightfully the mad glint in his brother's eyes. Not a good sign. Last time Alfred got that look … Was it Iraq? Or Afghanistan? The Canadian shuddered at the memory. He almost felt sorry for Scotland … almost. Almost because he knew better than any other colony just how _scary_ and _deadly_ Scotland could be.

This whole competition was ridiculous and Canada feared it would grow out of control soon. If Scotland gets word of this … Matthew feared what might be left of the world. Compared to that, the world wars and even the Cold War would be a better option. But worse of all … Canada glanced worriedly at the blond across the table. England was too busy arguing with his brother to notice the increasing tension of the room … which was obviously Scotland's objective: monopolising Arthur's attention and therefor making sure nobody else gets anywhere near his brother without him noticing. Canada knew that. But he also knew that it would be unsafe for England if his siblings went on a full blown war with the rest of the world. That won't happen, right? …right?

Matthew sighed, running a hand in his longer-than-Alfred's-but-not-as-long-as-Francis' hair. Of the same chestnut colour as his brother he hopped not to be mistaken for him if he grew them longer. It obviously didn't work. He was Mr Invisible man through and through. How could he stop this on his own? Pakistan was having way too much fun to want to stop this and Canada knew there would be no point in trying to reason with all those stubborn countries. Should he warn Arthur? But that might make things worse! What could he do?

His dark blue eyes looked worriedly across the room, from nation to nation and suddenly stopped on the far end of the other side of the world. How could have not thought of it before? There was a solution to all this! And it might be a bit less deadly than the current atmosphere of things.

Blue eyes locked with green ones.


	16. Chapter 12 The hero never stays

USA

**The hero never stays**

The conference ended without _too much_ trouble. In England's opinion at least. Sure, Fiona and Patrick spent the entire time fighting each other for god knows what silly reason. Wales slept the whole thing through (why he bothered even coming is still a mystery) and Scotland managed to piss of half of the countries in the world. A natural talent of his.

Arthur noticed that Scott would never leave his side and kept a close, watchful eye on him. He was worried. And Arthur knew that. But _honestly_! This is a world conference! _Nobody_ in their right mind (apart from France) would try to seduce or assault him here … hopefully. If anything, Arthur wished he hadn't agreed to let Scott accompany him to that conference a few days ago. Maybe things wouldn't be so messed up now!

The Englishman sighs, half listening to America's ramble. Next to him, still seated, Scotland was watching the young nation with amusement and maybe even boredom. The blond couldn't care less about those two. All he wanted was to pack up his things and leave.

"Hey, Arty! You're not listening to me!" America whined.

"Ah. Sorry America. I'm a bit tired today. We'll talk some other time, ok?"

As he motioned to leave, England felt the taller nation snatch his sleeve. He turned quizzical emeralds and was stunned to see America with a dead serious face. America? Serious? What's _his_ problem _now_?

"Can we talk, please? Alone." The American's azure eyes darted threateningly on the grinning red hair. Arthur shook his arm away, considered the attitude of his former charge for a few minutes before nodding.

"I'll be back in a second." The blond told his brother before following the taller man.

Scotland wasn't happy at all with this outcome but he didn't say a word. If anything, he knew Arthur would not let his guard down anymore after the incident with Netherlands. And if anyone dares to mess with a ready-fight England … he might end up with more pain than when Scotland and the others made the building collapse. Even so, the older man couldn't help but feel worried. Hey! That's what big brothers do! They worry even when there's no need to!

"One second." The red haired mumbled.

Wales was snoring next to him and he still could hear North and Ireland fighting in the background … or is that Switzerland complaining because North was out of bullets and borrowed/stole his guns? Toying with his car keys the only calm British sibling kept a watchful eye and ear for any sign of trouble. It was unlikely but … one never knows.

America clenched his fist, not caring about the drops of blood dripping from his nails biting the skin of his palm. He could feel England walking behind him. His steady footsteps … his slow breathing … Alfred could even picture the cold, expressionless face of his ex-coloniser. He gulped down nervously and they both walked in that small café place where he had previously gathered with other nations concerning the competition on-going. He took a seat in an isolated corner and waited for Arthur to join him but the blond instead went to order a cup of tea. Typical. He always does things his way. And he never … ever … _ever_ treats Alfred as more than an undisciplined child. The blond returns with his steaming cup and takes a seat in front of the other.

"You don't want anything?" He asked politely.

"No."

"Suit yourself."

A long silence stretched over them, only interrupted by Arthur's teacup getting occasionally put down or picked up from his saucer. Alfred gritted his teeth. This was it. He had to say it. It's now or never. Just those three words and his whole life will change.

"I love you."

Arthur stilled, his cup in mid-air. His beautiful emerald eyes blinked a couple of times, processing the information as if Alfred had told him that the moon was made of cheese. He slowly … very slowly placed his cup down and crossed his fingers, his expression unusually calm and straight, not showing an ounce of the bursting emotions in his heart.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Arthur's voice was low but controlled.

Alfred leaned forward and across the table, mindful not to knock off the cup. He cupped England's cheek in his larger hand.

"I. Love. You." He whispered each word with a vibrant voice. His eyes burning of long and silent passion.

He felt Arthur flinch but the Briton didn't remove his hand away from his face. Instead, he averted his gaze, hesitant. Alfred smiled softly and whispered in the other's ear.

"I've loved you for so long … I wanted you to see me … to notice me … not as a brother but as a lover. I love you, Arthur. Let me be your hero. Let us have our happy ending."

Alfred pressed his lips gently against the other's …

"What's with that goofy expression of yours?"

America blinked. He looked around. He was seated in his chair and in front of him, England was watching him, teacup in hand, one eyebrow lifted with a silent question.

_**Bam. Bam. Bam.**_

"America! What the hell is wrong with you?" Arthur panicked as he saw his former charge hit his head against the table. He wasn't worried about America's well-being. That would be silly considering that we are talking about America. Arthur was more worried about the possibility that the idiot might break the table with that hard head of his.

A dream. It was all just a dream. Alfred cursed. And it was going on so well! Arthur was going to kiss him and then he would tell him how he waited for so long for America to confess and they would both live happily ever after! But no!. It was all a fucking stupid dream!

"America!"

Alfred stilled. He looked up to see England hovering over him, a hand immobilising his shoulder and stopping him from hitting the table. Emeralds flashed angrily.

"You're going to break the table, idiot." He said darkly.

America couldn't stop staring. Why was it so hard? Just three words and yet …

"If you don't have anything to tell me, then I'll be going. Scotland is waiting with the others …"

Scotland.

Scotland.

Scotland.

Scotland.

"What's so good about him?" America hissed.

England jumped at the unusual dark tone of the child's voice. Yes, well, to him, America was still a child. But he had never seen such a dark and frightening expression on his face before. And that gleam of madness in his eyes … Oh yes, Canada had mentioned it before but Arthur had thought that he was exaggerating. Clearly not.

"America …?"

"Scotland! Scotland! Scotland! Why is it always him? I used to sit next to you! I used to argue with you all the time! I used to hang out with you after the conference! I used to accompany you back to the hotel! But now! Now _he_ does all that! Scotland! You only think of him! Only him! Always him! Even when I was small, when Scotland would come with you to visit us, you always were less present! You'd pay more attention to Mattie because Scotland was there! You'd always keep a watchful eye on Scotland and not me! I hate him!"

"… America?"

"And you know why I did that independence war? Because I wanted you to notice me! To see me! ME! ONLY ME! But you're still watching HIM!"

"That's not true, America …"

"Of course it is! And then you had all those others taking my place! It's like you just forgot about me! Now you even joined that European club thing! You're NEVER there for me! WHY? I've always loved you! More than anybody else! I LOVE YOU, ARTHUR! WHY WON'T YOU NOTICE ME! I'M NOT A CHILD ANYMORE!"

"…"

Arthur watched his friend's despair and hysteria crisis. Tears started flowing out of Alfred's sky blue eyes like rain. He kept yelling and ranting nonsense. The blond sighed. When Alfred was like that, there's no point in talking sense in him. So he just listened.

"And there's Hong Kong! And I know you like China! And Japan too! And why do you have to go and see Australia every Christmas? And Spain, France and Prussia keep pestering you but you don't care! It's not fair! Why is everyone more important than me! You shouldn't need anybody else but me! JUST ME!"

"… Ame …"

"And stop calling me America! You never called me that when I was your colony! Why don't you call me by my name? ALFRED! AL-FRED! The name YOU gave me! Have you forgotten it too?"

"Of course not …"

"I'm nothing! I mean nothing to you! I worked so hard to become a strong nation! Someone worthy of you! Someone that you would come to love and admire just as much as I love and admire you! Why do you still only see me as a child? Am I not good enough yet? What else do you want? What do I have to do to make you mine?"

"…"

"… What do I have to do … to make you forget him."

"…Him?"

"SCOTLAND! I saw how you two interact with each other! I've never seen you talk like that to anyone else! You talk to him like an equal! Not like with me! Wasn't he the one with whom you fought all those centuries ago? Why do you still care? Why is he so goddamn important to you? WHY DO YOU LOVE HIM AND NOT ME?"

_**Slap**_

America froze, his cheek burned, his head twisted to the side and it almost felt as if it would have been ripped off his neck. Arthur lowered his hand.

"Alfred."

The said Alfred shivered under the cold, imposing tone of the other. He didn't dare to look back at Arthur and kept his head turned.

"I've always cared for you. Even after the independence. And I've always cared for Scotland despite all our wars. I care for every member of my family and very one of my friends even bad friends like France. I care, Alfred, but don't mistake this for love. I do not love you. And I do not love Scotland. As lovers I mean. As brothers … Scotland is the closest to me as a brother. Granted we argue. Granted he isn't always nice. Granted he can be a handful. But we care just as much for one another. And that's all there is to it. Alfred, stop pitying yourself. I'm not ignoring you. I'm not trying to sound patronizing. If I made you feel like that, then I'm sorry. But I've always treated you as an equal. As a country in its own right. And I am proud of you and your growth. But I do not love you."

Alfred slowly shifted his head, teary pools of blue locked with the soft green of the other.

"But … but …"

"Don't be too greedy, Alfred. I am not solely at your disposition. I'm just as independent as you are and as such there are other people in my life for whom I care for."

"But why don't you …"

"I don't love you, Alfred, simply because I love you too much."

The other man's expression turned confused and puzzled. Arthur chuckled and ruffled the chestnut hair of the taller man.

"I love my family. I love you, my dear little brother. And because I love you, I can't be your lover. Forgive me Alfred, But my answer is no."

The Englishman moved away and started walking back to his waiting older brother. He stopped at the exit of the café and turned a smirking expression towards his stunned ex-colony.

"By the way, _Al-fred_. The reason I stopped calling you by your name is not because I forgot about you or don't love you anymore. I was trying to show you respect. From nation to nation and not brother to brother."

Alfred stared in shock as the man he loved and admired more than anything was once again leaving him. And once again, he couldn't do anything but stare at his back as he walked away … far, far away. Alfred didn't notice the curious stares of the other people in the café (they had followed the argument with interest and confusion) and he dropped himself in his seat, buried his face in his hands and cried. He cried like he always did when Arthur left. Because he could never know if he'll ever come back.

"I love you … I love you … Don't leave me … I love you so much … don't go … not again … please, brother, please … I love you …"

All the wars, all the fights, all the battles, all the pain. Nothing ever changed. Despite all, he still felt the same as the weak child of his past waiting eagerly for his hero to return. But the hero never stays. Otherwise, he wouldn't be a hero.


	17. Chapter 13 Secrets and Alliances

**Secrets and alliances**

Arthur leaned against the wall of the empty corridor. He should head back to the others. Scotland will get angry if he's too late. But the blond couldn't stop shaking. He kept a firm grip on his hand, clenching his fist and gritting his teeth. Taking deep breaths, he hoped to calm down but the pulsing of his blood was racing. His eyes were slowly getting clouded in a soft, white mist. The kind of mist he always feels before a battle.

"No good. I slapped him too hard." The blond whispered, remembering how he had felt Alfred's head snap and the bone almost break. Hopefully the American wouldn't have noticed.

"I can't … I need to stay calm." Arthur repeated to himself. "Calm. Calm. Calm."

The Englishman felt the adrenaline of his body dissipate. Good. Who knows what mistake he could have made had he lost control.

"It's his bloody fault … telling stuff like that … how could I not love him? My own little brother that I raised? You're so foolish America." The man grumbled.

He could still remember the broken expression of his former charge when he got rejected. Arthur felt a soft pang of pain in his heart. He hated bringing pain to the people dear to him but …

"But I'll never fall in love with you … I'm sorry … Alfred. Tch! Calm the fuck down, Arthur! If I turn up like that, Scott will get worried … more than he is already." He bit his trembling hand. The feeling of pain was drowned in the taste of blood.

Blood … battle … fight … Arthur felt a wide, excited grin covered his face and just for an instant, his eyes glowed dangerously.

Suddenly, the man bit harder until he almost yelped of pain. Ice needles of pain kept stinging his wounded arm and the man smiled in satisfaction. He wasn't shaking anymore. His body was still and rigid as it always is. His mind is clear and the mist clouding his vision had vanished.

"Good." He mumbled with a nod.

With a short spell, he healed his wound, leaving no trace. Nobody will know. Especially not Scotland.

"I need to stay calm … and I need tea."

He walked off to the conference room where his siblings were waiting for him. Scotland looked up with a bored expression and his Cheshire-like smile rushed back as he saw England.

"Yer late."

"I wasn't that long."

"Ye were 11 minutes an' 40 seconds, lad."

"You counted?"

"Aye! Ye said 'one second'!" Scotland grinned with pure satisfaction and tease as his brother rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Wake sleeping beauty up while I get Hensel and Gretel."

"Oki doki, boyo … wot happened t'yer hand?"

"… Just a scratch."

"Aye, jist like 'one second'."

Arthur said nothing. He could see that Scotland was suspecting something. But the red haired decided it wasn't worth arguing about … yet. He'll deal with private business away from the prying eyes and ears of those gossiping nations.

"I drive." The blond stated.

"Bu' ye always drive!"

"I don't need an accident. And I know you've been drinking whisky."

"… Jist a sip …" the older one mumbled in his breath.

_Elsewhere …_

"And that's the whole story."

The two men stared at the older one with shocked eyes. Coming from … what's his name again? Oh yeah, Canada! They never expected such a story. The tall brunet lifted his hand up.

"Hold on a sec, mate."

Both walked a few steps away from the anxious Canadian and started whispering to each other.

"I think he's telling the truth."

"It's worrisome if he is."

"Aye but … we can't leave things as they are! Poor dad's gonna die!"

"… I'm actually more worried for the others. I think dad might get really … _really_ angry if he hears of this."

The two shivered in anticipation. They had only seen their 'dad' angry, really angry, once and that was enough for a lifetime.

"I ain't want to be in their place, that's for sure!" The tall, bulky man grinned after a while. His emerald eyes sparkled of excitement as they met the dull blue ones of the smaller one.

"I don't even want to get involved. It sounds troublesome." He sighed, plunging his hands in the large pockets of his woollen jacket.

"Oh come on! Don't be all grumpy and boring!" The other ruffled his soft, fluffy blond hair similar to wool.

"I'm not. I'm just saying that it's going to be hell of a pain."

"Aye but …?"

"… But we can't just leave it all to those insane nutters." The man concluded with a defeated sigh and a resolved smile curved his lips. The brown haired one grinned back at him a smile similar to America's only less idiotic and a bit cheekier.

"Glad to hear! Oi! What's your name … uh … invisible bro!"

"My name is Canada …" The shy nation answered with a sigh.

"Whatever, mate! We agree to help you! BUT we'll do it our way!"

Canada watch with a slight dread the two grinning siblings. Somehow … they looked like wild animals just out the jungle and looking for a hunt. A small voice in his mind told Matthew that maybe he should have talked to Arthur first rather than those two … maybe … but it soon faded away. No turning back anymore.

"F-fine! Agreed. As long as …"

"Arthur is safe." The two answered in synch.

The Canadian smiled at the complicity they now all three shared. It may be a terrible idea to trust those wild nations but right now, Canada felt it was the best idea he ever had.

In the shadow of the wall, behind the three newly allianced nations, two small shadows fidgeted nervously.

"Jerk's in trouble?"

"Looks like it. And stop calling him that!"

"I can call him whatever I want!"

"You're being childish again, Pete! That's why you're not a nation yet!"

"Well you're just as childish as me, monkey girl!"

"Shut up! I'll tell England!"

"Go tell him, I don't care!" the blond boy stuck his tongue out, teasing the flushing angry girl.

"And I'll kick your ass!" She whispered a bit too loudly.

Both stilled as they noticed the watchful stare of the Koala on the brown haired man's shoulder.

"… Hey, do you think … he'll be alright?" The small, girls asked tugging on her brown pony tail with nervous hands.

"… Yeah. He's way too strong!" The boy answered confidently as if it were an absolute fact.

"Yeah … you're right!"

"Besides, it'll be fun to watch England getting all those love attentions!" The boy in a sailor suit grinned devilishly, already enjoying his mental image of Arthur getting chased by random countries.

"Hi hi! Yeah! Ah! Aussie's coming this way! Run!"

The two kids ran off giggling.


	18. Chapter 14 Big Bad Wolf

Veneziano (Italy North)

**Big Bad Wolf**

Scotland frowned, his ear pressed against his phone. He was holding back the urge to murder his useless, lazy, sheep-obsessed brother. Now, if only he wasn't stuck at David's office getting a serious scolding (apparently, yesterday, he pissed off too many nations. But hey! Was it his fault if those guys can't argue for their ideas? Fucking ideas too! A super hero will save the earth from global warming? Does Arty have endure this every bloody time? The lad deserves a bloody medal!).

"Are you saying that you _lost_ him?" Scotland's voice was smooth and honey coated and especially articulated almost like Arthur's Queen English … and that is never a good sign coming from Scott.

The Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland is currently debating whether he should leave his office for a cup of tea … maybe for say half an hour? Or should he wait and see if the red haired Scotsman snaps or not. The minister really doesn't want his office reduced to ruins (like a certain other building). But is it worth risking a murderous Scotland? Tea sounds like a great plan! Yep! Let's go for that!

_**Bam!**_

The Minister jumped as Scott slammed his fist on desk between them. He was now glaring furiously at the white wall, clenching his mobile angrily.

"You were sleeping?! You were bloody fucking _sleeping_?! I told you to watch over him! And now he's gone?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! … What do you mean it's no big deal? Aye it's a fucking big deal! He might be with one of _them_! … Oh! Cause you think your fucking dragon's going to change much do you? Wait? You brought your _dragon_? Are you nuts?! Arty's going to kill us if he finds out! He said no beasties! … Aye! Your dragon bloody well counts as a beasty! Idiot! Do I sound like I give a flying fuck about symbols and shite? Here, I'll ask David and he'll tell you! OI! David boy!"

The Prime Minister of The United Kingdom jumped to his feet in a military standing position that would have made Germany proud (especially since he really isn't a soldier).

"Yes?" He squeaked weakly. He was the one who started to scold the Scot but now, he was feeling tiny in front of the bloodthirsty presence in his office. Honestly? His boys are immature and unreasonable but when angry, David would be surprised if any man alive or country were able to stand up to them. And right now, Scotland is seriously pissed about some reason or another. The red haired turned and frowning face to his leader.

"Would ye consider a dragon a beasty? Symbol o' nay?"

"Y-yes … I guess?"

"Ha! Told ye! What? I don't give a fuck if it's your national symbol! … And I don't give a fuck's fuck about your bloody flag! S'not even in the Union flag so belt up! … Aye, s'a cheap shot an' I didnea care! Wot? Aye, whatever! Jist find him an' make sure he's a'right! I'll bloody murder you if he isn't."

The man shut his phone and started grumbling to himself.

"Th'idiot fell asleep in tha fucking conference! An' he bloody lost th'boy! Bloody fucking great! Peachy! Everythin's cool cause he got his dragon! Ha! Like tha thing's goona do much, eh David? Am righ'! Righ'?"

"R-right! Sure!"

"Aye, an' ye know wot? I even arranged bloody guard turns fo' Arty! An' _he_ fucks it all up!"

"That's … uh … nice. I guess. But … why would Arthur need protected?" This sounded very confusing and weird and David wondered if he really wanted to know the answer to that question.

"Cause those bastard nations _dared_ to claim _me_ brother! Nobody fucks with me brother and lives to tell!" The really pissed off nation yelled across the building.

Ok. No. David was absolutely sure that he does NOT want to know. Whatever is going on is none of his bloody business! Nope. Not getting involved! Sounds waaayyyy to dangerous. Just look at the devil in his office! The human stayed absolutely still in his seat as he waited for the mad Scotsman to leave, cursing colourfully and David wondered if he hadn't invented a few insults here and there.

"Rule number one: don't fuck with the British Empire." He repeated to himself the words of advice that the Queen herself had told him. This seemed to be an absolute rule that all British leaders are informed of. And David had no doubt of the wisdom behind those words. At least … his office is still in one piece … and standing.

Arthur ignored the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He really didn't want Scotland to suddenly turn up like he now does. His official new hobby is literally stalking Arthur. And they had turns now! Can't they let him breathe a little? He doesn't need bloody bodyguards 24/7! Luckily, Wales was on duty today and Arthur managed to escape his surveillance while he was asleep (which, to be honest, wasn't that hard a mission).

"Veee~ Arturo? Is something wrong?"

Arthur snapped out of his thoughts only to see Feliciano's face … fucking close to his! The blond slammed himself backwards against his chair in reflex.

"Ah! Bloody hell, you scared me! No, I'm fine. Thank you, Feliciano." The blond smiled to his friend before taking a sip of his tea. He didn't notice the sudden blush on the Italian's face nor the dazed eyes.

It was an unusually sunny day in London. The conference had ended … relatively well. Except France, Prussia and Spain had become more obstinate in bothering the host. Said host ended up knocking them all unconscious before leaving and announcing the conference's end earlier than expected. Arthur was really, really, really pissed. He stomped loudly across the conference building before hearing his name being called and an overactive Italian rush towards him faster than when fleeing. The tanned nation had promptly invited the blond for a coffee/tea because he looked "ve too tensed and angry and it makes you look scary" or something like that. Arthur barely grumbled in agreement that he was dragged around the city in search for a café. And here they are now. Seated outside, facing one another, in an awkward silence.

Feliciano fidgeted nervously. He had managed to get a moment alone with England at a nice place with a drink. So far, so well. … … Now what?

"Veeee …." The brunet struggled to engage a conversation with the other. And that is saying something considering that Italy is one to never shut up. And yet, what else could he do but fall silent when faced with those piercing emerald eyes?

"Ve … So pretty …" He mumbled.

The blond looked up in surprise and tilted his head slightly.

"Pretty? What is?"

Feliciano felt his face colour itself as he hastily looks away.

"Y-your … your eyes … ve … they're … pretty … the colour and … the shape … ve …"

Arthur watched the other struggle and felt himself blush. He already knew about Italy's feelings for him and to be completely honest, he wasn't sure whether or not he liked the Italian. Well, no. He liked him. But did he love him? Maybe. All Arthur could tell was that he was enjoying learning more about the southern nation.

"T-thanks. Um … Feliciano? Can I ask you a question?"

"Si?"

"… Since when have you … um … been interested in me? And if it's not too indiscreet, why?"

Feliciano watched the perplexity in Arthur's oh-so-gorgeous eyes. He looked puzzled. Why? Was it so unconceivable for Veneziano, North of Italy, to fall in love with England?

"Ve … I think, I started during the crusades. Ve! You looked really hot in your armour! And, and I was still weak but you were nice with me! Veee! And you didn't try to invade me like everyone else! And your skin is so white! And your eyes so green! And your hair so gold-like! And …"

"And what big teeth I have!" Arthur chuckled to a bemused Italian.

"Ve … teeth?" Feliciano frowned and his eyes lightened in understanding to the reference as he heard Arthur continue.

"It's to better eat you!" The blond winked, amusement shining in the green orbs.

Feliciano smiled weakly as he tried not too blush too hard. His chocolate eyes trained down on his espresso. It tasted more like water than coffee but then again, he wasn't in Italy but in Britain, the land of tea.

"You don't like it."

It was a plain statement Arthur was making but it made Feliciano stutter and panic, little 've' noises escaping his lips. The blond couldn't hold back his laughter.

"It's fine! I know full well that my people's coffee isn't much coffee. It's amazing you haven't complained about it yet!"

"Ve! I-I didn't …! I … ve …"

"Relax, Feliciano, I'm not going to eat you. Although you may think I look like the big bad wolf, I really am not."

"Veee …"

Nothing was said for a few awkward minutes until Arthur cleared his throat.

"So … what now? I can tell you that I don't love you …"

Feliciano's face fell as he choked on his watered coffee.

"But I do like you. As a person, I find you interesting and a good friend." Arthur finished, his eyes warily watching the other's reaction.

Feliciano seemed to think for a minute and slowly nodded, his stare lost into space.

"Si … friends … for now …" Arthur heard the other mumble.

The blond leaned back against his seat and an amused smile played his lips. For now, eh? Careful, red riding hood, the wolf is the one to eat you up in the end. Careful.

Arthur watched as he now saw his friend get up suddenly and walk up right next to him. The blond lifted a questioning eyebrow to the frozen still Italian by his side. A whole minute passed during which Italy's breath was so rushed even England could hear it and see the pulsing vein on the other's neck. The tanned man leaned closer and whispered in the blonde's ear. His soft hands trailed down the other's cheek while doing so.

"Alla prossima volta, amore! Ti amo, Arturo … ti voglio molto molto bene!" the seductive nation purred, leaning closer.

He wasn't stiff and nervous anymore. In fact, he was a complete different person. Arthur held his breath as he watched this new personality of Italy. The other's hand left his cheek and wandered down his chest and … Italy dropped himself on the Englishman's knees, deciding that, actually he didn't want to leave just yet. Arthur kept a watchful eye on the on-going events, he was very much curious about this strange gleam of darkness in Feliciano's not-so-innocent-eyes-after-all.

Feliciano got up and walked to bid goodbye to Arthur. It only took him three steps but each felt like an eternity. Once he was standing still like a statue in front of the piercing jade eyes, Feliciano felt his pulse accelerate and a twisted voice in the far corners of his mind whisper to him … After all … why not? Grinning slightly, leaned forward and purred seductively in the other's ear.

"Alla prossima volta, amore! Ti amo, Arturo … ti voglio molto molto bene!"

He softly caressed the pure white cheek of his love interest. Smooth and milky skin … and so cold … like gelato! You could just kiss it! On a sudden impulse, he propped himself on the other's knees, his hand trailing down on Arthur's chest, gently sliding between the shirt's buttons, undoing the clothing a little. Arthur's scent was so nice. Salty and fresh, it reminded Feliciano of the sea, and a faint touch of mint. Very nice. The Italian leaned closer, burying his nose in the crook of the blonde's slender neck. He kissed. Lightly. And again. One more?

His hands were now pulling on Arthur's shirt, giving up on unbuttoning it and simply trying to rip it apart. Stupid suit's in the way! His body was trembling slightly and he felt an overall heat flow across his body. Completely on fire, he was thirsty. Feliciano's lips became more insistent, trailing gently upwards toward the other's lips. He had long shifted his legs on either side of the Englishman, wrapping himself slowly around Arthur's torso. Feliciano tried reaching for a kiss but was stopped by a cold hand. He opened dazed eyes and met the vibrant green ones that always made his heart flutter.

"I think that's enough. We're still outside the café, Feliciano." Arthur said firmly but with no anger or scowl in his melodic voice.

Feliciano emitted a protesting whine and suddenly felt himself being lifted upward. His legs instinctively wrapped around Arthur's broader waist and he clung to the Brit's chest and neck. Arthur had gotten up, lifting the lighter body of Feliciano and simply walked off to his car. He didn't care for the strange stares. He was actually enjoying seeing the sudden red face of a self-conscious Feliciano. The adrenaline had pass and he was back to being nervous and childish. Quite cute.

Arthur dropped the other nation unceremoniously in the passenger seat. Feliciano lifted chocolate inquiring and maybe even hopeful eyes to him. But the blond shook his head as he took seat behind the wheel.

"I'll take you back to the hotel. Germany can take it on from there."

Feliciano's head dropped in shame and disappointment.

"Scusi mi …" he mumbled quietly.

Arthur didn't answer. A cold and expressionless face staring straight at the road. Only when he was sure that Feliciano was too busy self-pitying himself, did he glance sideways at the younger nation. The Brit smirked.

Feliciano left the car and as he slammed the door shut, he could have sworn he had hear Arthur say:

"Alla prossima volta, red riding hood."


	19. Chapter 15 Awesome and he knows it

Prussia

**Awesome and he knows it**

The next day, at the conference.

"Artyyyyyy!"

Arthur braced himself when he heard the recognisable German accent and loud voice. Seconds after, large muscled arms were slung around his shoulders and the pale face of Prussia appeared next to him. Arthur refrained from sounding exasperated which already was obvious from his the look on his face but Gilbert didn't care.

"What is it, Gil?"

"Kesese! You're free tonight?"

Arthur's expression turned cautious and he frowned slightly as he suspiciously glanced into the red ruby orbs of the other.

"… It depends. Why do you ask?"

"It's been a while so I thought we could have one of our drinking nights with Den!" Prussia grinned innocently.

Arthur immediately relaxed. He was getting much more suspicious these days and Prussia was _not_ one he would underestimate. The blond pondered a few seconds. If he agreed, he'd have to find a way of escaping his sibling's grip. Scott had kept his ideas of watch turns and that really pissed Arthur. He felt like some silly princess in a fairy tale and usually, in those kind of stories, Arthur always supports the scary dragon. Pity there isn't one in real life to burn down all those people messing up his life.

"I'll try coming. It might be tricky since my siblings have all switched in their over-protective mode. Scotland's not keen on letting me out by myself. Seriously, that's guy's driving me insane!" England muttered darkly only causing the hilarity of his friend.

"Great! I'll phone Den and tell him! I'll text you the time and place! Kesesese! I can't wait!"

"Will you try not to complain again about the beer not being as good as in Germany?"

"Kesese! Can't promise anything! But it's not my fault that your beer isn't as awesome as mine!"

"I should make you meet my brother Ireland. You'd have a nice competition about whose beer is better." Arthur thought aloud with a wondering smile.

Gilbert's eyes never left their prey. He devoured every inch of his friend's face and didn't notice the soft look in his own red eyes.

"I'm already in one … and I'm not planning on losing …" he mumbled softly.

"What?" Arthur turned lifting an eyebrow. "Did you say something?"

"N-Nein! Nothing! Everything's awesome! I'm awesome! You're awesome … Shit, no! I meant … uh … I gotta call Denny! I'll see you later!"

Arthur watched his friends suddenly sprint out of the building.

"What's with him?"

The blond shrugged and looked around as the nations exited the room. Again, today they had finished earlier because Ireland and North had started another fight (it was North's guard turn). Arthur had just given up on stopping his siblings and just advised everyone to leave. He kept a watchful eye, making sure everyone left safely … weird … where are Australia and New Zealand? They were there yesterday …

Arthur frowned in wonder and worry. He'll have to ask someone if they saw them … maybe they left while he wasn't watching? The blond shrugged and put that thought aside. He'll deal with it later. First, he had a slightly more urgent problem to deal with. England sighed as he turned an exasperated face towards his fighting ginger siblings.

Prussia rushed outside, breathing loudly. His heart raced a hundred miles per hour and not because of the running. He was a good runner. He wouldn't lose his breath from just exiting a building. But he might from the sweet look on Arthur's face. Damn! He's fucking Prussia! The awesome Prussia! How could he be so … so … Damn! So not awesome! He was pathetic! And Prussia does NOT do pathetic! The albino bit his lower lip, frowning furiously at nothing in particular. He got a date with Arthur tonight. So that's good. Now he needed to use this opportunity to make the Brit his! That shouldn't be too hard … right? They've known each other for long and they are quite close friends. And he's Prussia the awesome! Failure is not part of his vocabulary! This is going to be an awesome date and Prussia the awesome is going to get himself the most awesome boyfriend ever! Awesome!

With a renewed cheerful grin, the carefree albino walked back to his car and headed for the hotel to prepare himself.

_**AN: During the day, Prussia gets himself prepared, DOESN'T phone Denmark (Oh what a surprise) while England visits India to enquire on Australia and New Zealand. The next chapter is about India.**_

_~Time skip to the evening~_

The English citizens in the pub whispered discreetly to each other while staring curiously at the strange man at a far end table, alone. The fact that he was alone, didn't raise much attention. Nor that he was albino. Or the fact that he spoke English with a thick German accent. No. What really seemed strange, was the frantic panic on his face and the constant fidgeting of his body. He would rise up from his seat each time he heard the door open and would then slump back with a disappointed dark expression and mumble something in German. That still would have been ok. They would have wondered vaguely why he seemed so impatient and worried. But then again, people would assume he waited for someone. What stood out was the neat suit he wore. A suit. In a pub. Now that is weird. Unless he was a business man on his way home, stopping by for a drink. But he wasn't. His suit wasn't crumpled from a tiring day's work. It was neat and tidy, without a speck of dust. Dark blue with grey tie, an iron cross hung at his neck and elegantly fell over the tie like a pin. His white hair was combed slightly to the side and he sat up right in his seat very much in a military fashion.

For English citizens, this was obviously a foreigner awaiting his date and not having a clue that you do not turn up at an English pub with a perfectly neat appearance. Not because you can't, nobody will stop you, but just because it would be a waste. The suit won't last the night.

The door opened again. The man jumped from his seat, his red eyes narrowed on the coming figure. People in the pub watched, holding their breaths. They all now wanted to know who this man seemed so eager to see. Again, disappointment washed over the German's face as he slumped back in his seat. The citizens sighed, some looked at the albino with comforting eyes. And they returned to their conversations or to the football match on the telly.

For Other nations, if any were in the said pub at the said time, Prussia looked NOTHING like Prussia. He looked more like Germany to be honest if not for his pale skin, white hair and red eyes. And more surprisingly, Prussia himself was posed, well-behaved and elegant. And that is NOT what Prussia usually is like. The ex-nation slid a finger in his collar, trying to ease it a little. He could feel some sweat on his neck and not from the heat but from his nervousness.

"Damn it! Hungary tied it too tight … how can anybody breathe in this thing? I don't get how West can put up with it every damn day!" He grumbled in German.

_**AN: Chapter with Hungary helping her Prussian friend will turn up later on but I'm not sure when.**_

The door opened.

Prussia jumped from his seat and narrowed his eyes.

The red orbs stilled. Immobilised by the apparition entering the pub.

People watched with curiosity as they noticed the change of reaction in the Prussian.

Everyone's gaze shifted on the newcomer.

England walked in the pub.

Gilbert felt his pulse accelerate and his breathing become rushed like he had run a marathon. He looked his date up and down with avid eyes. Arthur wasn't wearing his business suit any longer. He was dressed more casually … more sexy.

Dark, slightly ripped jeans with chains falling from his belt, a sleeveless black T-shirt with the word _Queen_ and a picture of Freddie Mercury on the front seemed to melt on his upper body like a second skin. A leather jacket, chain bracelets and leather straps on each wrists, The blonde's hair looked even messier than usual but suited him so well. Prussia froze in place as England's piercing green eyes locked on him. Arthur grinned maliciously then his expression changed as he took in the get up on his Prussian friend. Surprise, confusion, shock, and then an amused smile curled at his lips. Gilbert hated it. He felt his cheeks burn from embarrassment. If it hadn't been for Elisaveta, he wouldn't be in this ridiculous dressing! But his friend wasn't bothered. He ordered a beer and joined his albino drinking buddy, pint in hand. Outside the pub, Gilbert knew that a certain Hungarian was following everything going on with a video camera. Damn it!

"Are you going to stand up all night?" Gilbert heard the laughing voice of the Brit.

He blushed furiously. He felt so ridiculous and silly. Stupid clothes! Stupid Elisaveta! And why did Arthur have to look so hot?! Damn! Damn! Damn! Now he, the great Prussia, looked like some unawesome high school girl acting all weird because of her crush! NOT AWESOME AT ALL!

He sat down. Frigid solid like a statue. He couldn't move and felt his clothes imprisoning him. Next to him, Arthur was sipping his beer, his amusement never left his face and his green eyes shone of tease.

"So? What's with the suit and all? Did Germany finally manage to force you into one?"

"Of course not!" Gilbert mumbled angrily. As if Ludwig could tell _him_ what to do! But Elisaveta could. Although he would never admit that, especially to Arthur!

"I … I just felt like wearing the suit I just bought … that's all." He answered rather hurriedly. Arthur lifted an eyebrow, his smile growing into a dark smirk.

"Really now? The Awesome Prussia likes suits?"

"Yeah? So what? They make us look hot so why not?"

"… You think?" Arthur pondered for a minute. "Yeah, I guess you might be right. You do look much better than in your normal clothes, to be fair."

Gilbert felt unusual shades of bright red invade his face. He'd look like a red demon if this keeps up.

"Where's Den?" Arthur asked, ignoring the blushing Prussian and looking around the pub.

"Oh! He … he couldn't make it …" Gilbert answered shakily, trying to regain composure. How does Arthur do it? Staying calm and composed all the time? It's so hard! Especially hard when the said Arthur is now staring at you with those eyes of his!

"That's a pity. Was he going to come in a suit? I would have looked out of place with you guys!" Arthur laughed.

"N-no! Not at all! You look great! You look awesome! Awesomely awesome!" Gilbert bit his lip as he realised he had once more, spoken without thinking. Arthur stilled himself and watched the other carefully. He nodded slowly.

"Ok … thanks I guess."

They both drank in an awkward silence. Gilbert furiously tried to find a way to ease things up and create a romantic atmosphere between them. Obviously, his mind went blank each time he allowed himself to glance at the Briton. This is not awesome at all!

"You know … your new suit might not last long." Arthur pointed out randomly.

Gilbert blinked in confusion.

"Why?"

"I don't know about German pubs. But here in Britain … well, we like fights." Arthur smirked maliciously.

No sooner had he said those words that a fight erupted at a neighbouring table. Gilbert watched in astonishment as nobody seemed to react to the fight. Everyone kept chatting idly about whatever, some would watch the brawl as if it were an entertaining show and even the friends of the people fighting were having a laugh and betting on who would win. Arthur was watching the fighting with a bored expression.

"Just saying, you shouldn't go to a pub with a brand new suit, mate." He said, slipping accidently in his northern accent.

Gilbert laughed. Arthur smiled and soon joined him in his laughter. The tension was gone. It may not be romantic but at least, it was pleasant. And that was awesome enough for Prussia. From the corner of his eye, the albino noticed the flashing of a camera outside the window. But he couldn't care less.

They drank. They laughed. They drank. They fought. Gilbert destroyed his new suit. They drank. They laughed. And time passed as the pub emptied itself. Soon, only the two nations remained along with the bartender who seemed to have decided to go clean dishes in his kitchen.

Gilbert sighed contently. His eyes never left Arthur. Arthur wasn't watching at anything in particular and his green orbs were clouded in an alcoholic mist. The Prussian felt light. So very light. And Arthur looked so hot. So very very hot. He leaned closer. His pale hand reaching for Arthur's smaller hand. Gilbert was taller, larger, and bulkier than Arthur. But not by much. Not as much as Germany or America or Russia. He only had one inch more and a slightly larger body. He cupped Arthur's chin, forcing the other to look at him.

They were both so very light. So very happy. And so very drunk. But that didn't matter. The Prussian picked the smaller hand he was holding and brought it to his lips, kissing it lightly on the back, just like a gentleman. Arthur blinked a few times before dropping into a hysterical laugh. As he saw the Prussian's hurt expression, he hurriedly explained his hilarity.

"Are you seriously trying to seduce me by acting like me? Even I wouldn't show up at a pub in a bloody suit!"

The Prussian blushed, his grip tightened on the other's hand. On a sudden impulse he leaned over the table, grabbing Arthur's hair and pulled him in a deep kiss. Arthur let him. There was a series of flashing outside but none paid any heeds to it. After they broke up, Arthur smirked and whispered in a rushed voice.

"Now _that_ is more like the awesome Prussia!"

The other grinned. They kissed again. Prussia pulled the other's body closer. His hands wandered under Arthur's T-shirt. The leather jacket had been tossed aside ages ago when Arthur had first taken seat at the table. Breaking their kiss, Gilbert trailed kisses down thorns of Arthur's rose tattoo on the length of his arm. He stopped at the wrist and kissed the back of Arthur's hand. Not like he did the first time. Not a polite kiss. That one was a sensual kiss, his tongue trailing around Arthur's long fingers. Gilbert felt Arthur play with his silvery hair with his free hand while chuckling lightly. The Prussian's other hand was still holding Arthur's waist, under the T-Shirt.

Suddenly, He pushed the blond down on the table. Arthur watched him with clouded eyes and a tempting smile. The smaller hands reached for the other's pale neck, pulled him forward. Gilbert felt his vital region might break through his suit. Arthur nibbled on the other's ear, a growing smirk on his lips.

"Not so awesome now, are you love?"

Gilbert never answered as he felt his lips being taken and Arthur raise himself into a seated position on the table. Gilbert's hands maniacally tried to pull off the other's T-shirt. Arthur let him. But he tore Gilbert's own shirt, ripping the buttons off in the process. Both shirtless, Arthur let his finger wander down the fine muscles of his partner. Gilbert shivered under the touch, his whole body trembled in lust and excitement while, on the other hand, Arthur's body remained completely calm and relaxed. The albino leaned in for another kiss which he was granted. His larger hands explored every inch of Arthur's skin until he reached a hindrance. Hissing in irritation, Gilbert glanced down and glared at the jeans Arthur was still wearing. The blond laughed hysterically at the murderous glare his partner was sending to his clothing. The hungry Prussian smirked at the sound of Arthur's laugh. He pushed the other down on his back. Arthur let him, still laughing.

The belt came undone.

A bottle fell.

A phone rang.

Then …

Then came the silence.

Both drunken listened to the ringing tune of "Anarchy in the UK". Arthur felt something vibrate in his pocket. With dazed eyes, he sat back up, pushed the other off him and pulled out his phone. Gilbert grunted, not caring in the least about the caller. He resumed back to kissing Arthur's torso, unable to do more since Arthur wouldn't allow him to go further. The Brit flipped his phone and answered in a groggy, bored voice. He hadn't checked the caller. He should have. It would have saved him from getting his ears blown up.

"WHERE THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL ARE YOU?!"

Both jumped. Gilbert didn't have to listen to hear the loud angry shouts of a mad Scotsman on the other side of the phone. Arthur rolled his eyes like a rebellious teenager speaking to his worried mother. He spoke, a bit more sober and a bit more bored.

"Pub."

"WITH WHOM?!"

"Gil."

"GET HOME THIS INSTANT!"

"Don't wanna."

"ARTHUR KIRKLAND, I AM GOING TO COME AND DRAG YOU BACK HOME BY FORCE IF YOU DON'T OBEY ME! … (chatting on the phone) … SHUT IT BOTH OF YOU! IT'S YOUR BLOODY FAULT! IF YOU HADN'T WASTED YOUR TIME FIGHTING …"

Arthur removed the phone from his ears. He thought he heard Patrick and Fiona argue in the background but didn't pay much attention. Instead, he smiled sweetly to the albino causing the taller man to blush. Arthur couldn't hold back a soft chuckle. Having the 'Awesome' Prussia blush is just too cute! He pressed his lips against the paler ones of the albino. Ignoring the shouts resonating through the Briton's phone, both nations locked in a tongue fight which Arthur won. He smirked as they broke up, trailed his lips down the Albino's chest …

"ARTHUR!"

And he sighed. Picked up his phone. Pressed it to his ear. And answered. Leaving the Prussian waiting with only permission to devour him with a heated gaze.

"What?" The blond answered mechanically.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE BLOODY GERMAN?!"

"Prussian."

"ANSWER ME, SMARTY PANTS!"

"Kissing."

"…!"

"Topless."

"ARE YOU BLOODY DRUNK?!"

"Yes."

"FUCK! HOW COULD YOU LET HIM GET YOU LIKE THAT?!"

"…"

"I TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL! HAS HE TRIED ANYTHING! I'M COMING STRAIGHT AWAY! TELL ME WHICH PUB!"

"Scotland." Arthur's tone changed drastically. From bored it turned into a low voiced threat. And Scotland heard it.

"… A-Arthur …?"

Without a word, England hung up.

Prussia kept waiting, a bit nervous to see Arthur with such a dark expression … nervous, but totally turned on. The Briton threw his phone across the room where it hit a wall and crashed into pieces. Everything went still. Arthur kept staring at his broken phone. Gilbert kept staring at Arthur. (Elisaveta kept staring at both of them, nearly fainting from nosebleed.)

Suddenly, the blond jumped off the table, pulled Gilbert in a sudden kiss, released him, picked up his Queen T-Shirt and leather jacket, closed his belt and walked out of the pub, eyes still misted from lust and alcohol, leaving behind a very aroused and very confused Prussian. Maybe Arthur had a sudden moment of soberness since he seemed to have remembered that his broken phone was still in the pub. He came back for it. Eyes still glaring dangerously at the broken machine. He noticed Gilbert still standing, confused. Arthur smirked.

"Let's play next time, love." He purred darkly.

And again, he walked off.

And again, Prussia slumped back in his seat as he had done every time the pub's door had opened.

And again, disappointment washed over him.

And again …

And again …

And again …

Elisaveta walked in. Her face showed a mixture of pity and self-satisfaction. She was happy from what she had seen but terribly sorry for her friend. She sat down next to the man.

"What did England say?" She asked gently.

Gilbert shook his head held low, face covered in the shadow of his crossed hands against his for head. Elisaveta worried he might be crying but she soon heard a crazy laugh escape his lips. Confused, she watched him laugh like a hysterical maniac. Once he was done, he lay back against his seat, an insane grin curled his lips.

"Gil …?"

"He's just too awesome." The albino concluded with a grin before falling in anther fit of laughter.


	20. Chapter 16 Care for some tea, Darling?

India

**Care for some tea, Darling?**

'O-kayyyy … This … is weird. Is that girl doing a belly dance? Remind me _why_ I came here?' Arthur thought as he stared deadpan at the couple of half-naked girls dancing some weird dance in front of him while he's seated on comfy cushions with people serving him food, soft music, sweet incense and fanning him with palm tree leaves … and Arthur thought you only see that in films NOT in a bloody hotel room in London!

The blond glanced sideways, searching for the nation responsible for this mascaraed, and he knew just who would be crazy enough to do that. Did the idiot really have to bring his people over? And palm tree fanning? When it's so freaking windy outside that the rain falls horizontally (literally)?! This is Britain! Not the fucking sunshine of … Ah! There's the bastard!

"INDIA!" The Brit growled angrily.

The dark skinned man jumped when he saw England seated in his room and glaring at him furiously. Despite his surprise, the Asian couldn't refrain the cheery smile that cornered his lips.

"Arthur! What brings you to my humble room?" The Indian chanted lightly as he dropped down on cushions a bit too close to the Brit. The other's body stiffened but he was too fucking furious to pay it much heed.

"Explain to me why your fucking servants jumped out of nowhere and won't allow me to leave this spot without your bloody approval?" Arthur's voice was cold as ice, much too cold for sunny India.

"They did? I wonder! What might have gotten into them?"

"Are you trying to be funny? What's this all about anyway? This isn't your Taj Mahal! And get those fucking fans to stop!"

India waved a dismissive hand and fanning stopped with the servants bowing and retreating.

"And the belly dancers! And all of those fucking people!" England ordered.

Again, India waved them off without needing of words.

They were alone in the room.

"So what brings you here, _darling_?" India asked with a playful voice, imitating the Brit's accent.

He poured them two cups of Indian tea under the irritated glare of the blond. He accepted the drink and sipped it quietly before speaking.

"I haven't seen Australia or New Zealand recently. And I noticed they weren't at the world meeting today. Do you …?"

India's smile fell a bit. So he was worried about his kids again. Figures. That's one of the things India loves about England: He cares for his charges, even long after their independence. Not that he was ever one of them. India may have a British colony but he was much older than the Briton as a country. And after spending so many years under British ruling, there is nearly nothing that the Brit could hide from his friend without him noticing. India smiled brightly.

"They looked fine last time I saw them. But I think you might want to worry about _what_ they were doing instead of being at the meeting."

Arthur's emeralds narrowed suspiciously and with slight anticipation.

"Meaning?"

He watched the dark skinned man shrug as he undid his turban to reveal his silky black hair. Eyes as pitch black as his hair, India leaned closer to the other, eyes boring into two green jewels.

"Meaning: your monkeys are up to something again!" He grinned maliciously and enjoyed the exasperated face of the blond.

"Not again …" Arthur sighed.

Last time Australia had had a crazy idea, he managed to infiltrate a thousand wild koalas in London zoo! Why on Earth he did do that is beyond England's capacity of understanding!

"You look tensed, Arthur. How about a massage?"

"You are not bringing another one of your bloody servants!" Arthur growled threateningly.

"Not my servants. Just me." India smiled in all sincerity.

Arthur shrugged lay down on the cushions and rolled over, offering his back to India. The southern man clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Without your shirt, European monkey!" he hissed and rolled his eyes at the outraged look England sent him.

The Briton complied nonetheless. It was nothing new but it had been ages since last time India gave him a body massage. The Englishman never understood his friend's weird customs, beliefs and way of life but he didn't mind it and loved learning more about it. The blond shivered under the cold touch of the tanned man but his body soon relaxed and he closed his eyes, inhaling the spicy scent of the room. He really loved India's massages. They weren't that often, even before, but he always enjoyed them.

The blond chuckled as he remembered the first time India had suggested to do him a massage.

"What is it?" The said India asked with curiosity as he heard the soft laughter of his friend.

"Nothing … just remembering the first time you offered to give me a massage."

"I remember the face you made when I told you to strip!" India mused with a devilish smile.

Of course he had meant it for the massage but India clearly remembered the twitch of disappointment in his heart when he realised that he was indeed only giving the Brit a massage. At first, it had shocked him. How could he have felt in such a way? And towards that European uncivilised nation who claimed to own him? And yet … Arthur did own him. In more than one ways.

"Raj? What's wrong? Why did you stop?" Arthur tried glancing back to check on his friend but received a smack on the back of his head.

"Stay still! I can't work if you move about!" The blushing Indian exclaimed a bit too hurriedly, not daring to let England see his red face.

He focused back on the pale white skin. He poured a bit of oil on his hands and moved them expertly across the blonde's back. He could hear Arthur's breathing slow down and steady itself while his own pulsed rushed with adrenaline. He didn't massage Arthur very often. Not because he didn't want to or didn't like to. He just felt it harder and harder to resist his urges each time. Touching Arthur but nothing more … it was painful.

The first time he had massaged Arthur, Rajesh had immediately felt something wrong. He should NOT be aroused by the fit pale body before him. He should NOT feel himself grow hard when Arthur groans in satisfaction as Raj skilfully massaged his tensed muscles. And he most definitely should NOT feel the need to **************************** Okay! Enough with the mental image!

"Raj? Are you sure, you're alright? You seem distracted." Arthur asked as he felt India's hands hesitate more than once.

"I'm fine! Shut it!"

"O-kaayyy … what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing! Just keep quiet!" India frowned slightly as he tried to erase the indecent mental image in his head. Pakistan would be laughing his arse out if he saw him right now. That thought only made Raj grouchier. He accidently stroke too strongly one muscle on Arthur's shoulder, making the blond jump in surprise.

"Watch it! Seriously, Raj! You're completely out of it! What's with you?" Arthur frowned in worry at his friend as he sat up, only dressed in his dark suit trousers.

He noticed India's shifting eyes moving across his bare chest, the frustrated face and flushed cheeks of the man and his fidgeting hands, and a very, very familiar feeling of déjà vue came to his mind. The Brit groaned in his mind in exasperation. Again? Really? India? You have got to be joking.

Arthur sat still, watching. He wasn't sure yet. So he waited.

The Indian kept glancing at Arthur. It had been ages since he saw him without his shirt on. Damn. His back was already bad enough but the front was even more arousing! The clear white skin marred with a few scars and beautiful tattoos. He hadn't seen those before. The electric guitar painted with the anarchy flag on it ornamented his lower back, just above his trousers … and his a***. The rose blooming on Arthur's back shoulder blade and its thorns curling down, spinning around his left arm up to his wrist. The shadowy golden design of a prancing lion on his right side just next to his fit abdominals. And the Indian even noticed the P imprint on Arthur's right wrist, burned in the skin, the mark of a former pirate. Raj tried not to focus too much on staring and lifted cautious eyes towards the other's face. He immediately saw the inquisitive look in the other's green gaze. The Indian sighed. Might as well tell him. Won't be a secret for long anyway.

"Arthur ..."

"Hm?"

"Hypothetically … What if I said that I love you?"

"What if you did?"

"Would you love me back?" hope leaked out of the Indian accented voice.

"I don't love you India. You're a friend to me."

"… I said hypothetically."

"And I'm saying realistically."

"… Not ever?"

"Not ever."

"Pity."

"Why?"

"You could have gotten my wonderful massages every day!" Raj grinned, his cheerfulness back the way it was.

Arthur smiled in relief. He didn't want to hurt his friend but he would never play with him. Others maybe but not India. They were too close for that. Only few of his friends would Arthur never want to hurt if he could avoid it and it included India.

"Seeing as your skills seem to have degraded themselves since last time, I might not regret that!" The blond answered back with a cheek.

"Oh really? Are doubting my skills, Lord Kirkland?"

"Am I? Prove me wrong then?"

Both grinned and Arthur lay back down, allowing the other's hand to roam his back once more. India's smile faded slightly and regret filled his eyes as he stared at the pale skinned back of his crush. His dark fingers trailed the guitar tattoo. Arthur must have noticed his hesitance since he calmly spoke up:

"You're my friend, Rajesh. That won't ever change. And I won't lie to you about this."

Raj took a deep breath and Arthur smiled as he heard the soft mumble of a thank you in Hindi.

"Let's bring some dancers back! I'm getting bored here!" India cheered as he clapped his hands and before Arthur could stop him, a dozen of servants rushed to their side.

The blond hissed in annoyance, rolling his eyes as his Indian friend was preventing him from moving, smacking his head each time he did. Still focused on the massage, Raj ordered for food, music, dance, Bollywood films on the Plasma TV (Yes he even brought over a plasma TV), anything that would make this enjoyable for the Briton. Despite his complaining, Arthur did enjoy it but he never told India.

Later on, after the servant's coming and going, both men were alone once more, sipping tea. Raj avoided crossing eyes with England who had put his shirt back on but only half buttoned. Was he tempting him on purpose?! English bastard!

"How's it going with Pakistan?" England enquired gently, noticing the sudden annoyed aura around his friend.

"Since last time? Do you really need to ask?" the other snapped back.

"No improvements, uh."

"… Sorry. I'm a bit …"

"It's quite alright. It was not an easy day for you. Thanks for the massage and the tea. I'll be leaving now. If you see Australia or New Zealand, let me know."

India watched with clouded eyes at the blond walking off to the door.

"You always do that."

Arthur stopped mid-way leaving the room and turned a confused frown to his friend.

"Do what?"

"You always leave. Just like that. You stop by for tea and you're off. You could stay a bit longer, you know. You don't have an empire to manage anymore."

Arthur grinned maliciously and walked back to the Indian, leaning over him. He cupped his chin in one hand and whispered, emphasising on his English accent.

"It never was my empire that kept me away, _darling_."

Raj's face glowed bright red and he gulped down with a nod. Arthur chuckled.

"It was nice seeing you. Let's have tea again some other time, _love_." The ex-pirate purred.

He dropped Raj's face and walked out without turning back once. Again Raj wondered how this man had managed to claim him so easily?! He was centuries older and yet he felt like a child! And it was so infuriating that Arthur could just walk off like that after rejecting him so cold heartedly! Damn! Damn! Damn! And again, Raj thought that he wouldn't love his England any other way. A playful smile curled his lips as he poured himself some tea, waiting for a blond European to walk in, sit next to him and sip his tea with that charming smile of his. And again, he would leave and Raj would sit alone. Waiting. Two full cups of warm tea set on the table.


	21. Chapter 17 Midnight Stalker

Russia

**Midnight stalker**

Arthur is fucking furious. Couldn't you tell? How dare Scotland treat him like a powerless kid?! Do this! Don't do that! Whatever Arthur does is none of _his_ bloody business! And now he just ruined a great night with a Prussian albino! And now Arthur is pissed and feeling guilty. And he's even more pissed _about_ feeling guilty! Why is he feeling guilty anyway? He was in perfect right to do what he wanted! And Scott just _had_ to phone and ruin it all, didn't he?! Bloody mother fucking wanker!

The blond cursed in his alcoholic breath. He didn't notice the tall shadow following him. He might have been frightened, had he been sober. But currently drunk as hell, pissed more than hell, and cursing his meddling brother to hell and back three times, you couldn't blame him for not taking notice of the stalker in his back. And if the stalker had any common sense, he'd be mindful _not_ to get himself noticed by the angry Brit. Because in his state, Arthur could be murderous. Apparently, the stalker wasn't as dumb as it appears. Or he's just too shy to go up to the person he has always admired and looked up to since his youth. A discreet kolkoling sound echoed in the dark alleys of London city. But for all that mattered, the man could be dancing a polka in a fancy feathered hat and singing God Save the Queen, that Arthur still wouldn't notice him. His emerald eyes, clouded in rage and drunkenness, he was glaring murderously at anything in sight, clenching his broken phone.

God, he looked so imposing when he's angry! Ivan felt a soft smile curl his lips. He'd always been fascinated by the smaller male. His golden hair shining like the warm sun. His eyes greener than anything Ivan had ever seen. For someone who only ever sees clouded skies and snowy white horizons, this man was like a beautiful dream. He spoke with knowledge Ivan couldn't dream of having. His feral pride seemed to govern every one of his movements. His moody personality was like a treasure hunt with new discoveries each time. And his caring smile … so warm it burned the Russian's heart each time he saw it.

But sadly enough, Arthur never looked his way. It's no wonder. America takes all of his attention. Thinking of America made the Russian's expression darken threateningly. He shook his head and thoughts of the American away. His eyes settled back on the blond who was now turning and walking into a park. In the middle of the night. With no one around. Russia didn't know if he should feel happy or worried. Happy since it meant he would be alone with England. Or worried because parks aren't safe at night and it's even worse if you're drunk. Hopefully, Arthur doesn't make it a habit to go wandering around town late at night and drunk. Well, if someone dares to try and aggress _his_ Brit, Russia will delightedly smash their heads with his pipe until only a red purée remains.

Catching up, Ivan found the Englishman sitting on a nearby bench, smoking a cigarette, his face lifted to stare at the clouded sky. Ivan looked up but all he could see was absolute darkness. Not even the moon shone through the clouds. No stars. Nothing. Just pitch black. But Arthur kept staring upward, blowing smoke like a chimney, his eyes looked misty and as if staring at something Ivan could not see. Which is exactly what Arthur was doing. To Ivan's ignorance, he was looking at some playful faeries. The kind that only comes out at night. He smiled softly. He didn't care if nobody else could see them. He could. His siblings could. Norway and Romania could. That was enough.

One of the faeries suddenly shrieked in panic and all went to hide away in the darkness of the park. Arthur frowned in annoyance. Just when he was starting to feel a bit better and less pissed! He looked up and glared at whatever had startled the magical beings. His eyes widened when he saw the tall figure standing in the trees' shadows. It was too dark and he was too far away for him to see the stranger's features. But who would be out alone in an empty park in the middle of the night? Well … apart from himself. Arthur frowned suspiciously at the figure. He noticed its sudden fidgeting and nervousness. Strange was too weak a word to use in this case.

"Who're you?" The Englishman called in a loud and harsh voice.

"… Goodevening England~" the eerie voice replied and Arthur felt a sudden chill run down his spine. Please no! He didn't feel like dealing with another nation right now and even less _Russia_! His frown hardened as he blew out some smoke.  
"What do you want, Russia?" his slurry voice was still cautious and controlled despite the intoxication of his many drinks.

"I was just taking a walk and by a fortunate coincidence we met."

"Well now, you're going to continue your night walk and I'll just stay here smoking." Arthur's tone made it sound like a no-reply order to which most nations wouldn't dare to challenge. But Russia isn't _most nations_. He simply smiled childishly and walked closer to the Brit, allowing himself out of the shadows.

"Nyet~ I find it nice to have some company!"

"Tough because I don't!" Arthur snarled, ignoring the Russian as he sat down next to him.

Taller, Ivan leaned himself over as to stare at the other on the same eye level. His deep purple met the glaring emeralds. His smile only grew more.

"You look angry, Angliya!"

"And if I am?"

"And you look drunk too."

"…"

"And you smell of cigarette."

"And you bloody talk too much!" Arthur muttered as he crushed what's left of his cigarette under his shoe. Ivan watched his every move as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. Arthur got up and started to wander off. He hoped for the Russian not to follow him. No such luck. Ivan was walking on his footsteps like a grinning shadow. Arthur cursed but didn't bother arguing. He just wanted to go back home and to his bed. By now, Scott would have stopped waiting for him and would let him be. Because the blond was not in the mood for another argument.

"Why are you angry, Angliya?"

"None of your bloody business."

"Why are you drunk, Angliya?"

"Same answer."

"Why aren't you afraid of me, Angliya."

"Why should I be?"

This conversation had turned into a snap exchange of questions and answers. Cheerfulness and curiosity from Ivan's questioning contrasted with the cold and dismissive tone of Arthur's answers.

"Everyone else fears me."

"America doesn't."  
"America is an idiot."

"Agreed."

"But you're not. So why don't you?"

"Because I'm not an idiot."

At that, Ivan frowned in confusion. This answer didn't make any sense but he wasn't foolish enough to ask for a deeper explanation from England when he was barely managing in getting the man to answer him as it is.

"Why are you angry?"

"You're repeating yourself."

"Da. I want to know."  
"And I'm not telling you, wanker."

"Ok. Angliya, do you love America?"

"No."

"… I meant …"

"I know what you meant. No, I do not love him as a lover. He asked me already and I rejected him. Now shut up and leave me be!"

"… Do you love France?"

"No."

"Italy?"

"No comment."

"Spain?"

"Fuck off."

"Prussia? Germany? Japan? China?"

"Do you have a death wish?" Arthur shot him a deadly glare from over his shoulder. A glare so intense it instantly silenced the Russian. Until he looked away and Ivan resumed his interrogating. He needed to know! He was not about to share his precious England with anyone else!

"Angliya? Do you love me?"

Arthur paused for a brief second. His eyes looked back at the taller man and the look in his emeralds showed that he had been expecting such a question. It wasn't hard to guess where the previous conversation was leading to. He sighed and stopped in front of a door. Ivan looked and noticed the large, impressive manor. Too big for a single person living alone. He saw the name Kirkland written above the doorbell and a childish excitement overwhelmed him as he realised that he was in front of Arthur's house! He heard noises from inside and curiously tried to peek through the curtains of one of the side windows, only to be stopped by Arthur's scolding glare. He really felt like a child in front of that man. The tickling in his stomach increased as Arthur turned to face him with his usual serious face.

"No." was the only word he greeted Ivan with.

Ivan kept smiling. His face never lost its cheerful expression. But it suddenly seemed frozen, like a cold mask. His purple eyes seemed to dull slowly and his breathing had stopped. Arthur turned back and was now unlocking his front door, opening it, when a large hand slammed against the door, shutting it back in a loud sound. Arthur felt the growing dark aura behind him and icy chills froze his body. He kept himself facing the door, his hand on the handle. A larger body moved closer to him, leaning against his back and a cold, dark voice sing sang in his ear.

"Angliya~ Do you love me~?"

Arthur gulped slightly. If he made one mistake it could end with him getting beaten by the Russian or … or him losing his composure. Neither alternative being very appealing. He took a deep breath and cautiously answered in a neutral voice.

"I do not love you, Russia. But that doesn't mean that I dislike you." (well, he does but technically, the other man doesn't need to know that just now. He's not lying. Just not telling the full truth.)

Ivan seemed to ponder on his words for a moment until a wide sadistic grin stretched his lips. Trapping the smaller man against the door, the Russian leaned over, his lips caressing the soft flesh of the other's pale neck.

"Da! You don't love me yet! Isn't that right, Angliya?"

Arthur didn't answer. He'd rather stay silence than foolishly speaking a careless answer.

"No worries! Angliya will soon love me and become one with Russia!" The eeriness in the other's cold voice sounded wrong.

Ivan bit down on the other's neck. Or, at least, he tried to. He didn't have time to bite hard enough to leave a trace than Arthur had slammed his elbow in the other's stomach, cutting his breath short. The Brit slammed the door open and moved in rapidly before the Russian could stop him. He glared at the other man angrily and before slamming the door shut, whispered darkly.

"I told you to fuck off, didn't I?"

Russia stared at the shut door.

Angliya had rejected him? Why? He only wanted them to become one. More than any other nation, Russia wanted Angliya to join him. The tall pale blond sighed, scratching his hair in confusion. What had he done wrong? How could he make Arthur understand his feelings?

The door creaked open.

Ivan looked up with a bright expression as he expected to see Arthur. His eyes widened in surprise as he heard a freezing cold voice honey coated with lacing words.

"What happens when you burn down a snowman?"

Arthur passed Scott's room and could hear his drunken mumbling and snoring. Dear God, his brother must have been upset from his previous behaviour. Arthur shrugged. He'll think of apologising tomorrow … maybe. Walking in his room, he didn't hear the sound of the front door reopen downstairs. But even if he had, he was not in the mood to care. His head was starting to show signs of a killing headache and his vision was blurry. He dropped on his bed, and instantly fell into a dreamless sleep.

The screams out his window never reached him. Nor the unusual sounds of crashing and shooting. Nor the roar of a raging beast. He was just too damn pissed and tired to care. He'll deal with it tomorrow … maybe.


	22. Chapter 18 - Order and Discipline

Germany

**Order and discipline … sorry, I'm too busy falling in love**

"THAT'S ENOUGH! EVERYBODY GET BACK TO YOUR SEATS AND LEAVE ENGLAND ALONE!"

Strangely enough, Germany was not the one to speak those words. Eyes shifted to the far end corner of the table where two very angry island nations glared, cricket bats in hand. Australia wore an unusually dark expression that reminded of America's when he goes bezerk. New Zealand kept an impassive face but his tongued clicked in annoyance and his eyes darted murderously from nation to nation. England almost sighed in relief as he saw them. First, he had been worried about their missing. Second, he had worried about whatever plan they had been preparing and the possible side-effects _he_ would have to deal with. But most of all, he was glad because just about now, he himself was about to snap. And _that_, is the last thing England wants. If he can avoid losing his calm and let others deal with this mess, then he'll gladly let them! Biting his inner jaw skin, Arthur breathed in slowly, letting the blood in his mouth drip from the wound he was creating. His body settled and with a sigh, he allowed himself to relax. Good. That was a close one.

Australia walked up to America and Russia, placing himself defensively in front of his father figure. New Zealand remained in his seat, observing like a hawk. The tall, slightly tanned, brown haired man with two cowlicks sticking out and emeralds of his father glared at his American older brother and the creepy Russian.

Neither of the British siblings was present today, for various reasons: Scotland is currently under the Queen's surveillance. He's too depressed to even bother coming to the conference and whines about "Arthur's pissed at meeeee!" to an exasperated old lady sipping tea. Wales is getting scolded by the Prime minister because apparently, you do not unleash your dragon after beating up Russia in the middle of the night like an assassin. Wales is a professional and it's quite surprising that Russia did not end up dead cold in a dark alley this morning. Wales would never have let him escape … except Belarus got in his way. And then _she_ learned not to mess with Northern Ireland who's suffering the same scolding as Wales. Those two are usually so calm and cheerful, but when angry … well, Belarus is now hiding under Russia's bed and won't dare to move even if Russia married her. Ireland is getting scolded by his own boss (he had found it smart to go and get into a fight with Prussia after Arthur had left him) and was banned from stepping foot anywhere near his neighbours until the end of the conference.

And so, Arthur is stuck with his former charges to deal with his suitors. Oh bloody great! Is it just him or has this situation turned into some comical drama show? The blond sighed in exasperation as he placed a calming hand on Australia's shoulder. The taller man relaxed instantly and shot a raised eyebrow to his former care-taker.

"What's up, dad?" he grinned maliciously. Arthur sent him a scolding glare.

"Don't start acting like your uncles." He warned the younger one but his voice was forgiving and not as harsh as if he had been scolding Scotland and the others.

"Sure! I'm reasonable! You know that!" The brown haired man grinned.

"Sure you are. Now can we all go back to our seats and get this over with! I'm sick of this conference and I can't wait to see you all leave my home!" The Englishman muttered darkly as he waved everyone away and back to their seats. They all obeyed. Not because England sounded menacing in anyway. He looked tired more than anything. They obeyed because Australia looked like a crazy demon waving a cricket bat slightly too close to people's head for comfort.

Germany sighed. He should have been the one to bring back order and avoid causing more trouble to Arthur. Sadly enough, Ludwig felt unable to remove his attention away from the exasperated host not even to yell order back to the room. His eyes drifted to the beaten up Russian. He was in worse condition than his bruder (Ludwig had been surprised to see Gilbert turn up at the hotel, hunched over Hungary and beaten up to pulp. He had darkly muttered things about a crazy Irish before dropping dead on his bed which he hadn't left even now). Russia looked like he had been thrown into WW3 and barely survived. It's surprising he's still able to attend. Then again … Ludwig had a feeling that the reason for Arthur's siblings' absence was due to Russia's condition. He shivered. What kind of monster would be able to cause such damage to a nation? Obviously, Germany is not aware of Wales' more-than-suspicious pets (and not only dragons, yes has more and deadlier pets than that).

The German sighed as he distractedly followed the conference. America didn't give any 'hero speeches' anymore and looks depressed from time to time. Germany had heard that England had rejected the younger one. He felt slightly happy about this and his heart jumped in his chest. The conferences were going much slower than usual but were more serious too. It seemed that everybody was distracted by the tensions among each other. Germany wished that things hadn't turned out like that. And today was even worse than usual, for two reasons:

One: Australia and New Zealand acted like guard dogs and it was slightly scary to see those cheerful and lay-back nations become so serious.

Two: Ludwig couldn't stop the feeling that someone or something was observing him in the shadows of the conference room. He noticed other nations shiver and could only guess that they felt the threatening presence too.

Ludwig's eyes flew across the room in search of the source of his uneasiness. It only caused him to find a new one. His blue gaze locked on a strangely behaved Feliciano. He knew his Italian friend quite well, and right now, Italy would have been eating his pasta or dozing off. But he wasn't. He was staring intently at England with his amber gaze like a hungry hawk. His curl was unusually still and a dark smirk stretched his lips. The Italian seemed to have noticed his German friend's stare as he looked up and winked maliciously at Ludwig. His smirk growing further more. It almost felt like he was daring the other, challenging him. Ludwig felt his blood boil in anger and his blue eyes darkened significantly, thus causing the Italian to let out a small giggle. He wasn't scared. He was having fun tormenting the German, as if stating that he was ahead of him, that the Englishman was as good as his. And Ludwig would not allow this. Definitely not.

A moving shadow suddenly passed behind Feliciano. Ludwig's eyes narrowed but he barely caught a glimpse of the small moving shape. Groaning inwardly, the German searched the room again but soon realised that others were doing the same. Until England sighed in exasperation.

"Henry … you'd better have a bloody good explanation." The former Empire spoke threateningly to his grinning charge. The Australian smiled innocently as he moved closer to the blond and leaned over his shoulder from behind his seat.

"About what, daddyo?"

"About the 23 koalas roaming around in my conference room. The scorpions you've probably hidden in everyone's cars and the kangaroos I saw jumping around outside like bodyguard boxers. I don't want them to hurt anyone inadvertently. And it seems as though everybody else noticed them too."

"Don't worry! I trained them so they'll only punch the living day-light out of anyone who bothers you! And it's not scorpions this time! It's tarantulas! Did you actually count all the koalas? "

"I told him we should have taken the crocodiles. They'd be more discreet than kangaroos." New Zealand pointed out with a shrug. Arthur had to muster up all his self-control not to yell at them. He knew the goodness of their intentions … but he really didn't want his conference to turn into a zoo! The older man smiled pleasantly to the other two. So pleasantly that it became uncomfortable and the two nations averted their gazes down and braced themselves for a scolding like a child would.

"Boys? What exactly did I say the last time you brought koalas over?"

"T'was just a few … and we left them in the zoo …" Henry Kirkland mumbled but quickly shut up under the stern glare of his adoptive father.

"What. Did. I. Say?"

"That we weren't allowed to bring over pets without asking for your permission first." New Zealand eventually replied in a sulking voice after the tensed hesitating silence following Arthur's question.

"Exactly, David. Now. What part of '_no pets without permission'_, did you not understand?"

"But it's just a security measure!" David grumbled.

"I trained them! They'll behave!" Henry whined with a pout.

Honestly, it looked like a mother scolding her turbulent children about bringing stray cats to the house. Except the children were supposedly responsible adult nations. The cats were deadly animals hunting other nations down. Oh, and England is a man.

"I don't care. I want them gone by tomorrow. Understood?"

"… Yes … dad." The two groaned in annoyance.

Not once had Arthur raised his voice. But it felt as though he completely overwhelmed the other two. In fact, Arthur had long understood that yelling was not the best way to get your kids to listen to you. And Arthur never lost an argument with his kids. And he had had many to say the least.

No sooner had Arthur told the other two off that they were ushering and conspiring another plot. Seems like they wouldn't let this lie until the end of the conference. Ludwig sighed in exasperation. He couldn't believe how Arthur managed to deal with so many colonies. He himself had to deal with his annoying and immature older brother. Not to mention that Arthur also has immature older brothers. More than just one. Ludwig felt a grin corner his lips as he imagined Arthur in an apron and taking care of a chibi Australia and a chibi New Zealand. Arthur wearing an apron … hm … just an apron …

Ludwig blushed and face palmed himself. He needed to get a grip! How could he let his mind wonder like that during a conference?! Damn … now he was hard. Oh great. Hopefully nobody will notice … ah, shit, Arthur's looking at him. And damn is he cute! Ludwig tried avoiding crossing eyes but the more he kept glancing away the more suspicious and insisting Arthur's emerald stare on him was. Eventually, the host got distracted by France and Spain, allowing Ludwig to breathe.

Germany suddenly felt a chill strike him and his eyes fell on Feliciano's intense dark glare on him … along with the couple of Koalas behind him and glaring just as deadly as the Italian. Ludwig couldn't hide the victorious smirk that cornered his lips. And he felt truly blissful to see the rage deforming Feliciano's gentle features. If anything, he knew Arthur would come to enquire on his well-being after the conference. Both knew. And only one was happy about it.

"Ludwig, are you feeling alright?"

Right on cue! Ludwig held back the satisfied smile that wanted to creep up his lips and turned to face the smaller man. Feliciano passed them both not without sending a warning dark glare to his German friend. Germany ignored him and focused solely on the lovely blond before him. He really loved England. He had loved him from before WW1. And the more time passed, the more attracted he was to the man. It did take him until WW2 to realise his feelings and ever since, Ludwig had tried to maintain his passion a secret. He was afraid of inviting Arthur out because frankly, Arthur had never really shown much interest in him. They had been and still are trading partners but beyond business, Ludwig never saw the other man … even if he dreamed of him every night. Sometimes he wished it was Arthur that would crawl in his bed in the middle of the night instead of Feliciano.

"Ludwig?"

The tall blond snapped out of his reverie of a naked Arthur slipping in his bed in the dark night … Shit. Get a hold of yourself! His azure eyes dropped to meet the deep emeralds of the other. Arthur looked confused and seriously worried. With good reasons: Ludwig is _never_ one to daydream or inadvertently ignore his interlocutor. Gently, Arthur placed his palm against Ludwig's forehead, causing the other to blush.

"You don't have any fever. Are you alright?"

"J-ja! I … I'm just … I had my mind on something else …" The German stuttered with a fierce blush. Arthur frowned. He had never seen Ludwig this weird. He was flushed and sweating like a fountain. He looked sick … maybe the beginning of a cold … the fever might turn up later on …

Almost out of habit, and probably due to Australia and New Zealand's childish behaviour earlier, the old maternal instincts that England had acquired through the many years of dealing with kids kicked in. He grabbed the German's hand and dragged him to his car, not without causing the said German to blush even more and complain in a confused blabber. Only Ludwig noticed the angry dark glares that they (he) received from other nations.

"Get in." Arthur ordered with a firm voice as they both arrived on Arthur's doorstep. He hadn't paid any attention to the complaints of the German all throughout the road trip to his house. Checking on his watch, Arthur was glad to see that Wales and Northern Ireland would still be in Parliament. And Scotland … well, depressed as he was, he'll probably be at some pub getting drunk. Arthur sighed as he knew he would have to go and fetch him later … but for now, he pushed the reluctant German into his house and shut the door.

"I'm not …" Ludwig was interrupted by a thermometer thrown into his open mouth and got silenced by Arthur's scolding glare. So he stayed put, perfectly still on the sofa, his eyes looking at everything except Arthur. He had wanted a chance to talk to Arthur but … god, why did it have to turn out like this?! This is so … awkward!

"It doesn't look too bad … you don't have a fever …" Arthur mumbled to himself as he checked on the beeping thermometer. He had just wanted to check his intuition but it really did seem as though Germany wasn't sick. So why did he look so … Arthur frowned but his thought got interrupted.

"I'm fine. Just a bit … tired." Ludwig spoke nervously.

"Tired? I'm bloody knackered! Dealing with all this shite and my siblings." Arthur sighed as he dropped on the sofa next to Ludwig.

"W-where are they? I thought you lived with them …"

"We do. Wales and North are being punished for nearly killing Russia."

"Punished?"

"Yeah, David will probably have them attend Parliament for a whole week at least. They can't stand that. Neither can I, to be fair. Ireland is locked up in his home because he tried killing your brother. And Scotland … he's having tea with the Queen."

Ludwig lifted a shocked eyebrow at the last part of Arthur's explanation but didn't push on. Arthur's stubborn frown allowed no questioning on _why_ Scotland would be having tea with the Queen instead of protecting his younger brother.

"Sorry about Gil by the way." Arthur mumbled darkly, cursing inwardly a certain Irish idiot that forced him to apologise to someone yet again. Hadn't he done enough apologising for a life time?

"Oh. It's fine. It wasn't your fault …"

Arthur let out an empty laugh that sent shivers down Ludwig's spine.

"Not my fault? I bloody well know that it is my fault. Those idiots are just too over-bloody-protective … And I was kind of making out with Gil last night …" Arthur smiled sheepishly at that last part but Ludwig suddenly tensed and his blue gaze hardened significantly.

"You what …?"

"I was pissed … in both meaning of the word. So was he. We just hit it off a little but it didn't go as far as sex. Although it could have … Did you know that he wore a fucking suit to meet me at the pub yesterday? Prussia in a suit! Now _that_ was hilarious!" Arthur started laughing hysterically and completely missed the dark aura growing around Ludwig.

"So you were drunk?"

"Aye, I was bloody pissed!" Arthur giggle, returning to his rough pirate slang without noticing.

"But you don't … love him?"

Upon hearing this, Arthur froze. His eyes turned cautious and analysing as they watched the calm German by his side. He noticed that all nervousness, all flushed face, all the sweating and the stuttering was gone and replaced by Germany's cold and stoic expression. The one he usually has but something was off and Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on what.

"No … I don't _love_ him. To be honest, I don't love anyone right now. I mean, on a romantic level …"

"But you kissed him?"

Arthur hesitantly nodded, frowning at the urgency he heard in Ludwig's voice. He didn't like were this was going. He had a really, really bad feeling about it.

"Yes, we kissed. But that doesn't mean much …"

"Doesn't it?"

Ludwig's head suddenly dropped in defeat as he sighed loudly, catching Arthur off-guard and completely confused on how to react.

"L-Ludwig?"

Without rising his head up, Ludwig answered Arthur's confusion. His voice was shaking and he sounded almost on the brink of tears. That couldn't be right! Ludwig never cried! Right?

"You're telling me that you'd kiss anyone as long as you've drunk enough? Doesn't it mean anything to you? Don't you … don't you feel in least worried about …"

"Ludwig … It's not like I would kiss _anyone_. I'm not froggy France, for goodness sake! But I don't see the harm in kissing someone you are very close to when intoxicated in alcohol. I mean … I care for Gil. He's one of my best friends. But I don't … I don't know … I guess I'm a bit confused right now …"

Ludwig looked up discreetly to see Arthur's frustrated expression as he ran a hand in his golden hair.

"You don't mind kissing someone you don't love?"

"I told you, I was drunk! But I don't dwell on it as if it were the end of the world!"

"… I would."

Arthur glanced curiously at the odd statement of the other. Ludwig still hid his face away but Arthur noticed that his voice wasn't as broken as before and instead had turned into a soft whisper.

"You're young. I used to be like that too." Arthur shook his head with an indulgent smile. Smile that tuned into a surprised expression as he felt his hand being taken gently by Ludwig's. He noticed the fierce blush on the other's face and Arthur connected the dots from Ludwig's earlier reaction. Oh. Him too, uh? Bloody great.

"What made you change?"

Arthur didn't bother removing his hand. He knew Ludwig to be decent and was sure that the other wouldn't try anything beyond that. Besides, he felt a bit sorry for the lad. Was he really that worked up over a fucking kiss?

"Life." Arthur shrugged. "When you're young, you believe in those fairy tale scenarios. Trust me, it doesn't take much to make you realise that life isn't as rose as in stories."

Ludwig had lifted his head up and was boring intense blue eyes into the green of the other. Arthur felt slightly uneasy due to the intensity of the stare. He wasn't scared … just a bit … uncomfortable. It's rare to see Ludwig showing this much passion. Damn, he could even beat Antonio!

They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity.

…

… …

"Ich liebe dich."

Ludwig clasped his hands against his mouth in sudden panic, Arthur's eyes were wide but he didn't seem all that surprised, as if he had been expecting it. The German felt his face grow hotter and redder than it ever had before and he felt so embarrassed that he wished he could just drown and vanish from the surface of the earth! He didn't even say it in English!

A resolute sigh answered him, and Ludwig looked up to see Arthur with a troubled expression and scratching his head in frustration. Oh. He should have known. It would have been a miracle otherwise. Ludwig felt tears threaten to fall but he held them. He would not cry in front of Arthur and he would wait for his answer. Whatever it may be.

"Did you all decide to confess together or what?" Arthur groaned in annoyance. It almost felt like his friends had all decided on a unanimous decision to confess and claim him. What the hell is going on?! And God, it's bloody tiring!

"I really can't say that I love you, Ludwig. I told you, I don't love anyone. And you're all suddenly confessing to me all at once for God knows what reason! I'm confused and I really don't get it! Why are you interested in me all of a sudden? How do you expect me to choose when you're all jumping on me at once?!" Arthur's angry and frustrated voice, the nervousness and the confusion in it, somehow, it appeased Ludwig's fears. Arthur didn't say no. He just didn't say yes. And that is enough to make Ludwig's heart jump summersaults in his chest, hope renewed.

"I … I understand. I guess I might have been a little too forward …" Ludwig spoke with a small smile.

"Well, if it's of any consolation, I'd rather someone straight forward like you than someone who'd take ages just to get to the point." Arthur mumbled back as he thought of various examples of countries.

The sudden soft squeeze on his hand made him turn towards Ludwig and he suddenly felt two lips pressed against his. Arthur froze, registering what was going on. He just barely had time to realise that he was being kissed than Ludwig had already pulled away. Just a soft peck. Shy and innocent. Nothing more. Arthur blushed at how sweet and gentle the kiss was. It was a change. How long has it been since he had experienced such a tentative kiss?

Ludwig fidgeted nervously next to him. Arthur noticed how worried he looked and the fierce blush on his face. The older nation smiled indulgently and leaned forward. Ludwig's eyes widen as he saw Arthur approach him. They grew even wider as he felt Arthur kiss him. A deeper kiss. A more confident one. A tongue slipped over his lips and Ludwig immediately opened his mouth. They kissed for what seemed like ages and when Arthur pulled away, Ludwig was redder than Spain's tomatoes and breathing heavily. Arthur smirked with a soft wink.

"Sorry love. That's not a very fair answer. But that's the best you're going to get."

Ludwig didn't respond. He was too busy getting his head around the fact: _'Arthur kissed me! Arthur kissed me! Arthur kissed me!'_ By the time he did feel able to answer, the door snapped open and two very grumpy and very pissed Britons walked in.

"I canna believe it! N' entire fuckin' week o' bloody attendin' fuckin' borin' Parliament!" Fiona growled angrily as she walked in the living room, cursing her Prime Minister. Then she froze. So did the angry Connor following her. Both looked at the two blonds with stunned expressions. Arthur is leaning over the Kraut. What. Exactly. Happened?

"Shit." Arthur cursed in a breath as he slowly saw Wales' expression turn murderous. North was just too shocked to even register.

"I think you should leave now! It looks like your fever has gone down. You should be well by tomorrow. Cheerio!" Arthur spoke as he pulled Ludwig towards the door and promptly excused him, slamming the door shut in his face.

Ludwig stared at the shut door in utter confusion before hearing the sudden loud shouts emanating from the house. Almost in a trance, Germany walked away. He should call his Brother to pick him up … no, better not … a taxi maybe? However, he just walked. He needed a walk to clear his head and the confusion in his heart. Arthur didn't love him. But he had kissed him. And Arthur only kisses people he feels close to, right? A large excited grin broke the German's stoic face. It may not be a straight YES or NO answer, the kind of answer Ludwig likes, but somehow, he didn't mind. He didn't mind being confused. He didn't mind the vagueness of this answer. After all, order and discipline cannot possibly apply in matters of love! If it did, Feliciano would be a top soldier and Ludwig a Casanova. But he's not. And he's so hopelessly in love with the man who can be both a fierce warrior and a charming gentleman. And that's just fine. Just fine.


	23. Chapter 19 - Just one of those times

Denmark

**Just one of those times**

"Me wee bro'er … Ain't lettin' those bastards have him! He's _me_ wee bro'er! Dennyyyyy! Why Arty hates meeee?! He never wants me ta help him!"

"I can't imagine why." Denmark sighed as he watched his drunken red haired friend … and the pile of empty bottles of whisky. Who's going to pay for all this?

Scotland kept whining, cursing and complaining with a loud voice, disturbing the other clients of the pub and earning dark glares from everyone in hearing range around him. He didn't care. He was too busy cursing every nation that he was planning to kill. Then he went on complaining about Arthur again. Arthur this, Arthur that, Arthur's mad at me, Arthur hates me, and it went on and on and on and Denmark felt he would go insane if this goes on. Why on earth did he have to stumble upon that Briton when all he wanted was a quick drink! Mathias sighed again as he felt the heavy weight of the Scot lean against his shoulder, the man's crimson hair fell over his flushed face and Mathias could hear the heavy breathing of the drunken.

"You're worse than Arthur when you're drunk …" the Dane mumbled in his breath while pushing him of. "Except you're less cute …"

"Wot? Who's cute? Me wee Arty?" Scotland roared and suddenly sat up right and watched the Dane with a dark expression. His emerald eyes shone of awareness as if he were clean and sober (which he was truly not!)

Mathias quickly tried to evade the subject. Having a sober angry Scotland is already bad enough. Having a pissed angry Scotland is much much infinitely much worse.

"Nothing! You're hearing things!"

"Me hearin's fine! Wot's tha 'bout me wee bro'er? Denny, I might have ta break yer neck."

Scotland's cold and serious voice made Denmark retreat backwards in his seat. The problem with Scotland is that he's normally very stubborn but not unreasonable. However, when he's drunk, he's even more stubborn and completely unreasonable! Plus if it's about Arthur, he reacts like a mother hen … or worse.

Scotland's hand crushed the whisky glass that he was holding, still full. He didn't mind it or even noticed it. His green eyes were glowing dangerously like ones of an enraged animal. You'd very much pity the prey … who in this case is the poor Dane terrified so much he didn't dare to move. Hey, it's understandable! _You_ wouldn't want to be prey to Scotland's drunken anger either!

"Alright, that's enough."

Both nations turned around as they recognised the voice entering the pub. Arthur walked up to them and placed a firm hand on his brother's shoulder. He then looked up at Mathias with an unreadable expression as usual.

"I'm here to pick up my brother before I'm forced to pay for more than just drinks. Do you mind?"

"Not at all!" the Dane grinned, trying to sound like his joyful self and failing miserably as he hears his own voice crack and shake, his smile forced. Arthur smirked. His head tilted slightly and his eyes teased as the corner of his lips curled sarcastically and mockingly. Denmark felt a rush pulsing through his veins and a soft heat spread though his body. Was it hot in the room, or what?

"I bet!" the blond Brit laughed and tapped his brother's shoulder, turning his attention away from the Dane. "Come on! Quit scaring the poor lad! Time to go home!"

Scotland blinked a few minutes. His eyes darted suspiciously from his friend to his brother. Then he remembered the drink in his hand and pure horror covered his face as he saw the crushed glass still held firmly in his bleeding grip, red and gold liquids blending together on his pale skin. Arthur took the other's hand, and examined it with a sigh.

"We'll have to get the pieces of glass out of your wound. Come on! Get up! I'm parked just outside."

Scotland still didn't move an inch and kept staring at his whisky covered hand.

"I'll buy you another bottle on the way home if you behave." Arthur spoke with a chuckle.

Immediately, Scott's face brightened up and he looked at his brother with childish eager eyes. A soft sadness still lingered though and Arthur knew why.

"No. I'm not angry anymore. But I don't want you to go assaulting every random nation who talks to me. I'm old enough to look after myself!" the blond explained with slight impatience in his voice.

Scotland's face fell and he looked sadly back at his hand, staring intently at the dripping blood. Arthur frowned and hissed in annoyance.

"Uh-uh! No sulking! Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

He growled as Scott completely ignored him. Arthur could almost hear the grumbling of Scott's mind! He leaned over and whispered in the red haired's ear, so that only he could hear him.

"If I need them killed, you'll be the first informed. How does that sound?" Arthur purred darkly, his eyes glowing even darker than Scotland's a few moments earlier.

The older man fell into a fit of hysterical laughter before following his younger brother out of the pub, leaving behind a confused Dane. Arthur was back shortly and alone. He drew out a debit card and paid for the fortune his brother had spent and the lesser fortune of the Dane's share.

"Thanks for taking care of him! I phoned Norway to pick you up. See you next time!" Arthur winked at his friend and left.

Denmark slammed his head against the counter of the bar and cursed loudly. His face was bright red and he felt like he had just been used and paid for like a cheap prostitute! Except that he would much rather prostitute himself for Arthur than babysit Scotland for him! And why did the blond look so damn hot?! It's infuriating!

"Fuck … I can't believe I played like a kid … Fuck …"

Then Mathias remembered Arthur's words. Next time …

"Shit! Next time, will you pay a bit more attention to _me_ or just my bill and leave again?"

When Norway arrived, he found a drunken lonely Dane and the remains of what used to be a pub in London. A Viking's handy work by the looks of it. And Norway knew that the storm had passed and his friend was now lost in an alcoholic depression. He was not happy at all. Now he'll have to take care of that idiot … _again_.

"Oi. Get up. I'm taking you back to the hotel." The cold nations spoke just as coldly as its expression.

Denmark didn't even take notice of him. He just stared in mid-air and mumbling incomprehensibly. Lukas clicked his tongue in annoyance and smacked the back of his friend's head. Mathias silenced but didn't look up.

"Denmark. Move. I'm taking you back to the hotel."

"… Norge …"

Lukas rolled his eyes. Dear Lord … he already knew what would come next! It's what always comes next! Whenever Denmark goes out drinking with Scotland and Arthur phones him up to pick up his useless friend! Always the same scenario!

"What?"

"… You like Arthur."

That was new.

Lukas froze. This was not the usual conversation. Usually, Mathias would go on and on about Arthur. Of course, it was common knowledge among all the Nordics that Denmark loved England. Why else do you think he invaded him when they were young? But nobody (up until now) had known that Norway also had feelings for the blond. Mathias lifted hazed sea blue eyes and met the cold indigo ones of his adoptive brother.

"You do, don't you?" His voice sounded fatidic and resolved. As if he had finally decided to admit reality. Norway nodded.

"Yes."

"I thought so." Mathias sighed. "You know that I …"

"I know."

Lukas knew all too well. He knew very well about his brother's obsession. Trouble is, he isn't the only obsessive Viking around. And having two Vikings fighting for the same thing always ends with one dead … or both. The two nations both understood that. They both were aware of their situation. But then … this was just one of those times where they would not start fighting yet. They could do nothing about it for the simplest of reasons: Scotland was here. And if Scotland is around, no matter their disagreement, they would never stand a chance against the angry red haired. Not because he was stronger … no, because he was the most over-protective brother in the world.

"Come on. Let's go back to the hotel."

"Yeah …"

And just like that, Lukas dragged the half unconscious Mathias to the awaiting taxi. Just like every time. Again and again. Because there's nothing they could do. It was just one of those times.

**AN: Ok, this is crap but I have nothing better to offer! Sorry! Next up will be Romano and a bit of Spain showing up. **


	24. Chapter 20 - The Hunter

Romano (Italy South)

**The Hunter**

Last day of the conference. But not necessarily the easiest one. You'd expect things to end and nations' separate lives to go back to being … well … _separate_! Well, maybe for everyone else they do. But not for Arthur Kirkland.

The meeting just ended and England had a very important person he needed to talk to. But that idiot is nowhere to be found! Just great! Whenever Arthur _didn't_ want him around he couldn't get rid of him but now that he actually wanted to see him, the guy just vanished! He should still be here … had he left already for his plane? Ah! No! There he is!

"Spain!"

The Spaniard turned away from what seemed to be an argument with Romano. The Italian was flushed red in anger and Spain's expression was growing dark from his conquistador times. Arthur regretted interrupting them as both their gazes shifted to him like hungry wolves. _Note to oneself: Do not meddle in an argument from those Mediterranean nutters._ Antonio's expression suddenly lightened up, he smirked to the Italian who also seemed to have calmed down and was hiding his angry blush and averting his eyes away from England.

"Si Inglaterra~?" Arthur cringed at the sweet tone of the Spaniard. Ok. Add Spain to the fucking list. Yes, alright, so he did have an affair with Antonio in the past but it was over now! Was the guy really thinking of winning him back? Good Lord … was he _ever_ going to get some peace and quiet? Arthur sighed and motioned the Spaniard slightly away from Romano. Spain was all too happy to oblige.

"How's Victoria?" Arthur got straight to the point. No time to waste in petty talks. He did have other things to do, namely: finding some way to send his insane brothers to a mental hospital. If only he could …

Spain's smile didn't falter but grew unusually cold and empty and his eyes darkened in disappointment.

"Si! She's fine! Perfectly fine!"

"You're taking care of her, aren't you?" Arthur's voice grew dark in warning.

"Si! Of course! She's not only yours, you know!" Now Spain was growing angry. Hey! He's not completely hopeless! He had kids before! How dare that English bastard tell him what to do?! The Spaniard felt his heated temper grow and the more Arthur remained calm, the angrier he got. It didn't take long for them to burst into a heated argument with Arthur snapping at him sarcastically and Antonio yelling in pure anger. Anger management: Not one of Spain's strong points.

The two got interrupted by a calm and firm hand gripping Antonio's shoulder. Silencing, the two nations looked back at the Southern Italian whose face was as straight and stoic as Germany's. Romano's amber gaze settled on the blond and softened slightly. He shot a dark threatening look to his Spanish friend and pushed him away, placing himself between the two.

"Sorry about that." He simply said while pointing back with his thumb at _that_ (aka Spain). Arthur nodded.

"No problem. Used to it." He mumbled back and walked away.

"Romano …"

Romano ignored the dark tone of his former boss and decided to go off for a stroll not without smirking back victoriously to the confused Spaniard.

"You lost him … I'll catch him~!" he whispered and left Antonio in the empty conference room.

Romano had his reason to wait this long to approach England. It's a hunt. Unlike his idiotic brother, Romano was taking this very seriously and had waited for the perfect moment and opportunity to strike. The same way you wait for the last second before pulling the trigger on your prey. And Romano is one hell of a shot. If Feliciano spends his time making pasta every day, Romano spends it hunting with his mafia. That's why he leaves Veneziano to deal with foreign affairs, the least people know about his true nature, the better. Saves him the trouble and shit of explaining. Actually, only Spain and America knew about Romano's darker side. Spain had raised him. America … well, he had gone out with the bastard at some point (just for notice, Romano _always_ topped!). But there is one more person aware of Romano's darker personality. England. And it was due purely to coincidence.

Just as WW2 was approaching its end, Romano offered his help to the Allies (he never really had gotten into this fascism regime, most of his men had been decimated because Mussolini was on a campaign against the mafia. He nearly did manage to kill Italy's criminal background … had Italy not lost the war). Of course, Romano had simply acted scared as usual, he didn't beg for help but it probably turned out like that. Romano doesn't beg. But he does trick people into thinking that he's as weak as his northern brother. Only America was reticent about him. Of course. Because for one, he had just broken up with him, and also because America knew about Romano's dark side. Had it not been for England, Romano would not have joined the allies. England was all for using the locals to help in the recovery of Italy from the Axis. And it was during this time, that inadvertently, Romano showed his true self to the blond Englishman.

"_England! You don't need him! You have me!" America whined as he tried to convince his former coloniser to reconsider helping Romano. He didn't like Romano. Not anymore. Not since he had discovered … that! Well, he did only date the Italian because his personality reminded him of Arthur. But after seeing Romano's other side … No way is he like Arthur!_

"_Romano will be of a huge help to us in our advance. I want to avoid pointless battles if I can. I will not waste my men's lives simply for your stupid pride, America!" England snapped darkly, his green eyes shimmered dangerously in the dull light of the small cottage in Palermo (capital of Sicily and birth place of the mafia)._

"_It's not my pride! I'm worried he might betray us!"_

"_He has no reason to betray us. He hates Germany and he wants to get his brother back. His people were oppressed by the fascist regime. I'm not saying he's the best ally we have or that I would choose him if I had a choice. But I don't. Right now, I will accept all the help I can. America, you have no idea what kind of war I've been fighting while you just ignored us."_

"_But I'm here now!"_

"_Yeah! It took Pearl Harbor to make you move your fat arse! France was useless. Russia made a non-aggression pact with Germany and everyone else got invaded. China is too busy with Japan so I was the only one left to resist this madness! I can understand Romano's anger and his desire to see Germany fall. And I will help him. I will use him. And I will win."_

_America silenced in awe. Whenever he saw that dark and prideful side of England, it always sent him shivers. England looked so … impressive. Even covered in countless wounds. Just his confidence and his will to never give up always impressed the younger nation. But he feared for his parental figure. He feared that Romano …_

"_That's fine. Use me all you want. Just get my brother back."_

_The two nations turned to the new comer. Romano walked in the room, gun in hand, covered in blood. America narrowed his eyes suspiciously._

"_Where were you? Why are you covered in blood?"_

"_What do you think bastard? There's a war going on! Or maybe you hadn't noticed? Seeing as you felt you were above us to even bother helping!" The Italian snapped harshly. America flushed in anger and drew out his own gun._

"_I had no fucking reason to help the likes of you! You're the one sending your trash to my home!"_

"_Don't you dare insult my people, bastardo …" Lovino hissed darkly._

"_They're not your people anymore, are they?" Alfred smirked teasingly._

_Both pointed their guns at each other and time seemed to stretch as neither pulled the trigger. They both waited for the other to make the first move. Eventually, England was the one to move first. The blond dropped his empty bottle of rum. The two men jumped at the sudden crash of the glass bottle as it hit the ground and shattered to pieces._

"_If you have time for petty arguments, then use your energy for hunting down Fascists and Nazis." Arthur growled before waving them away as he returned to analysing his maps and the best routes to invade Italy._

_Alfred opened his mouth as if about to speak, then reconsidered and left. He shot a warning glare to Lovino as he shut the door of the house. Lovino didn't care. He looked back at the Englishman. The man was a mess. It's surprising he still moved in his broken body. Lovino couldn't help but be amazed at the determination of the man. Emerald eyes suddenly snapped up._

"_You're not as weak as I thought." Arthur plainly said as he looked down the blood covered Italian. Lovino paled._

"_What?" he ushered darkly._

"_You went fighting."_

"… _It's a war."_

"_You could have let me fight."_

"_You? Ha ha! In that pathetic state you're in? You wouldn't even be able to defend yourself!"_

"_Wouldn't I?" a smirk played on Arthur's lips. Lovino frowned but decided to ignore it. He was about to walk away when he felt a strong grip on the back of his neck and suddenly he was faced with the ceiling, flat out on the ground. On reflex, the brunet rolled to the side and got back on his feet, his eyes shifted around to locate his aggressor but he didn't get a chance to find him before the aggressor found _him_. Again, suddenly out of the darkness of the room's corners, Lovino was grabbed by the shoulder, this time he was ready! He swung his gun around but a knife flew to his head. Avoiding the blade, Lovino soon felt a hand immobilise his armed arm. The Italian swore and threw a kick to the shadow behind him. A soft gasp answered followed by a chuckle. Lovino couldn't help the wide sadistic grin that broke his own face. His eyes started to glow of a dangerous red and had you seen him, it was hard to believe this was the same scared whining Lovino as usual. This person looked more like an insane killer rejoicing in the heat of battle and bloodshed. Fighting … no matter how deadly and cruel … it always made him so ecstatic and his adrenalin filled body could hardly repress the need to kill._

_After many minutes of shadow fighting, Lovino was able to catch his fleeting opponent and immobilise him to the ground. Gun pointed at his neck, Lovino's eyes widen as he saw the smirking face of Arthur._

"_Check mate." The blond laughed as he pressed the blade he held a bit more insisting on Lovino's abdomen. Never had Lovino noticed the blade. He smirked back at the blond._

"_You're a bastard."_

"_And you're a liar." Arthur replied in the same teasing tone._

_Lovino released his fellow nation and tried to calm down his excitement. He really had enjoyed this brawl with England. Even if it now meant that England knew of his other side. But it's not as if Arthur was all innocent either. And Lovino loved it._

"Looking for something?" Lovino heard the teasing voice next to his ear. Lovino blushed but a smirk adorned his lips as he turned around to face the teasing emeralds. Arthur was smiling at him knowingly. Almost as if he had been expecting this.

"Who is looking for what, bastard?" Lovino smirked.

"I wonder. Is it common in Italy to go around stalking people and hide at the corner of buildings?"

"Is there a law against it?"

"If there is, would that stop you?"

"Has it ever?"

Arthur laughed as he walked on. Lovino didn't need the blond to tell him to follow, he immediately ran after him. He walked alongside Arthur, listening to the soft chime of his laughter. He liked that sound. Lovino absolutely loved the soft sound of Arthur's voice.

"So? Are you going to take me out for coffee like Feliciano?" Arthur asked with a hum.

"You should know by now that I _never_ do like Feliciano." Romano snapped.

"Of course." The blond hummed back, undisturbed.

"Where are you heading, bastard?"

"Home. Aren't you?"

"Not yet."

"Got other plans?"

"Not me. You do."

"I do?"

Lovino shot him a mysterious grin.

"You are going to go to the park behind the hotel at 6pm tonight."

Arthur watched the Italian run off, leaving him with what seemed to be a … date? The blond smirked.

"And if I don't show up you'll hunt me down, won't you?" he grinned before walking home.

*~*~* Time skip *~*~*

Lovino felt his heart leap in his ribcage as he saw England walk up to him. Dammit … Now he really wanted to just jump him and rape him right now! Lovino licked his lips and his eyes slowly downed the Englishman with desire.

Dressed in casual clothes, Arthur looked even better than in his suit. His dark jeans were elegant and not the usual ripped off ones he favours. Those seemed classier (probably because Arthur was aware of Romano's fashion critical sense. Hey! He's Italy!) and were well-fitted and fell nicely on Arthur's hips. He wore dark shoes, and a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the first few buttons undone and a red neck tie hanging loose. Lovino noticed the thorn tattoo on the length of the Englishman's arm and he only wished he could see more of it. He also wondered if Arthur had any other tattoo elsewhere on his body. The blond wore a few piercings, mainly on his earlobes. Chains hung around his waist, wrists and neck. And his hair … Lovino was surprised to see the golden mane slightly tamed and held together with gel as the hair seemed to have been brushed to the side lightly and fell on his left eye … god that looked good~

Holding his dark waist-coat under one arm, Arthur walked up to his Italian friend with a smile, his eyes shining brighter in the dim sunset. Lovino was seated on a bench, smoking a cigarette, wearing his usual dark elegant trousers and crimson shirt half open. Not a speck of dust on his shiny Italian shoes and Arthur smiled as he saw the devouring look in the amber eyes of the younger nation. He took seat next to the other man and waited for Lovino to speak up first.

"… You're late, bastard."

"Sorry. It seems that person called 'bastard' just left a while ago." Arthur grinned maliciously as he saw Lovino's face turn into a pout and blush.

"Shut up."

"Whatever you say."

The blond lit up a cigarette of his own as he waited in the stretching silence of the park. Lovino next to him seemed in deep thought and Arthur could imagine why. He had a feeling that someone was orchestrating a scheme of dumping the world's confessions on him. Little does he know how close to reality he is.

"Got fire? Forgot my lighter in the car." Arthur asked as he kept searching his pockets with a frown. When he looked up, Lovino was centimetres away from his face. Arthur froze, he felt his heart stop. Too close. Way too close. Lovino leaned in closer, amber eyes boring into the emerald greens.

"Si." He whispered in a breath and cupped Arthur's cheek in one hand, the other held on to his cigarette as he pressed it against Arthur's unlighted one. The blond held his breath as he watched Lovino blow smoke in his face. The time it took him to actually realise that if he wanted his cigarette to light up he will need to draw out some smoke from it, was enough time for Lovino to shift his body much closer to his own. When Arthur's cigarette did get lighten up, the blond blew into Lovino's face the same way the Italian had done. Lovino smirked as he withdrew away slightly but still kept his arm on the back of the bench and circled behind Arthur.

"… Thanks. But a lighter would have been sufficient." Arthur mumbled, shooting a dark glare to the smirking Italian.

"Emptied it just now." Lovino shrugged. He could be lying. In fact he probably was. No. Arthur was _sure_ that he was lying but it wasn't worth discussing it. Lovino is a liar. Nothing new here.

"So … why did I have to be here tonight?" Arthur asked with a sigh. He just wanted to get to the point now. The teasing had gone on long enough. And it seems as though Lovino was thinking the same thing. The Italian frowned, carefully choosing his words and he spoke in a low whisper.

"I thought you liked star gazing."

Arthur stared at the other man with a dead-panned expression. Was he serious? He called him out to look at stars? You have got to be kidding!

"Yeah. I do." Arthur replied with a shrug and turned his attention to the said stars. He couldn't possibly imagine the massive turmoil going on in Lovino's mind. The Italian cursed himself over and over again. What kind of crappy excuse was "star gazing"?! Dammit! Why couldn't he find a cooler thing to say? This is pathetic! He'll never get Arthur if this keeps up! Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

His chocolate eyes drifted towards the blond. So beautiful. Especially in the dim moonlight. He looked like an angel. Lovino felt his heart beating so loud it's a wonder nobody else could hear it. His arm moved closer around Arthur and his body started to lean forward. Damn … he really couldn't stop himself …

However, he did stop. Only inches away, he stopped. And hours stretched. Arthur gazing peacefully at the sky. Lovino gazing wistfully at Arthur. The night fell and stretched over them like a vale of secrets. Lovino didn't understand why but … he couldn't … he couldn't touch Arthur. Why? It's not that hard. All he needs is to make the man feel so much pleasure that he'll never stray away from him. But Lovino was unable to move. Was he … scared?

No. Impossible. Lovino would never get scared in such a situation! He's Italian! Master of seduction! There is no way he would be scared of … of … damn … He really was afraid. Not of Arthur. He was afraid of reaching out for Arthur. Dammit! Why is he feeling so utterly pathetic when this might be his last chance and the perfect moment! That's it now! The moment of the hunt when you pull the trigger! So why couldn't he? Why …

Lovino's thoughts were interrupted when he felt a hand grab his and saw Arthur press his lips gently against the back of his hand. A fierce blush covered his face. This is wrong. He mustn't let Arthur take the lead or that might ruin his chances! His prey might escape! Arthur's emeralds looked and pierced straight into the wide amber eyes of the Italian. An amused smile twisted his lips.

"It's been hours now. Haven't you noticed yet? There are no stars."

Lovino looked up on reflex and stared agape at the clouded sky. Indeed. There are no stars. Only the moon shone shyly in between two clouds. All of it is pitch black. Lovino kept staring until he felt someone pull him down on his back, his head met somebody's lap and his eyes crossed with shining green gems. Arthur smirked maliciously as his face hovered above the Italian's. Lovino felt his heart might explode from overheat and he caught his breath. Their lips were inches apart. All he needed to do was lift his head up slightly and …

"Check mate." The blond whispers before pressing his lips against the other's. Lovino's eyes closed and he lifted his arms up, his head still resting on Arthur's lap, he circled the blonde's neck and pressed himself deeper into the kiss.

Time stopped. Or maybe it had stopped the moment the sun had settled? Even the moon now hid behind the thick clouds. The two nations kissed in the secretive darkness of a starless night. Not a blow of wind or a whisper. Everything was still aside for the two men.

Arthur broke apart with a chuckle. He heard a small moan from Lovino before the Italian's face blushed of embarrassment and he hid it, burying it in against the blonde's shirt. Lovino was still resting on the bench, his head on Arthur's lap. He felt Arthur's fingers toy with his auburn hair and his blush only increased. Dammit. He completely fell for it. Arthur had played him around like a cat plays with a mouse. Just like that time …

"You're such a bastard."

"Hm hm. And you're a liar."

Lovino couldn't help the pleased smile from adorning his lips. He should have known that his prey wasn't a weak herbivore. How could he have forgotten? Arthur is all but innocent. And the worse thing is … Lovino wouldn't love him any other way.


	25. Chapter 21 - Treasure Island

Gilbraltar

**Treasure Island**

Something definitely happened. Yep. Definitely. Question is: What?

Victoria Carmen Kirkland stares up from her _Treasure Island_ book. And to think she was just at the best part! Pirates breaking and burning everything! Did that _idiot_ have to come back _now_? And what's his problem? He looks like a beaten up stray dog! Did his Italian stand him up again? Nah, he wouldn't be this depressed! He looks like the world is ending … … Oh well! That's his problem! Victoria buried her nose back in her book. Whatever his troubles, she would not help or care in the least! Hasta la vista, sweetheart!

The tanned girl, with long black curly hair reaching to her shoulders and sprawled down her back like a waterfall, turned her thin and elegant body sideways as she laid nonchalantly on the ruby red sofa. She was tall with voluptuous curves despite her 18 years old aspect. Her features were typically Mediterranean but her breast slightly more inviting than usual girls from the region, thanks to her Northern blood. If you asked her, what she liked best from her appearance wasn't the beautiful sexy body, the perfectly tanned skin of a mermaid, the silky dark hair or her natural elegance. What she praised most about her looks was the intense emerald eyes she inherited from her Northern father.

Gibraltar frowned in annoyance as she got once again disturbed by the loud sighing of the man seated in the nearby chair. She glared murderously at him. He was hunched, shoulders slumped forward in defeat, hands joint against his forehead and his face shadowed behind his dark curls as he stared pitifully at the ground. If he's going to sulk and feel miserable, can't he do it somewhere else? Where he wouldn't ruin her book reading! Bloody Stupid Spaniard!

Spain sighed again in defeat. Gibraltar clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"Can't you go be depressed somewhere else? You're spoiling my book, España!" her crystal voice sang the rolling sounds of her Spanish tongue.

Antonio grunted something incoherent. Victoria ignored him and flipped another page of her book. A tensed silence stretched painfully in the living room. But that wasn't unusual. This was in fact a frequent occurrence in the Spanish villa in Barcelona (Spain likes Barcelona better than Madrid as a living place but does frequent journeys to the capital for work and has an apartment there). The daughter and father tended not to get along well. If anything, Victoria spent most of her time visiting her uncle Portugal (she wasn't allowed many visits to England sadly enough). Spain tried to be a good father but … uh … it's hard when your daughter refuses to even consider you as her parent! It wasn't unusual for them to fight and argue, then they'd each sulk, both being of a fiery temperament and so full of pride, neither would give in. They could stay mad at each other for weeks! Usually, Portugal would intervene and make Spain apologise first. He'd have no chance in convincing Gibraltar to make the first move. She's not England's stubborn daughter for nothing!

But right now, no fighting. Quite unusual. The tension is palpable but Spain seems out of it, as if his mind is too troubled to even bother with his daughter. This brought curiosity upon the girl's frowning face. What could be going on that would make Spain ignore her? She dropped her book and settled an analysing emerald gaze upon him. She saw him shiver and glare darkly at her with his own spring green eyes. He didn't like her stare. Of course he wouldn't. Victoria knew very well why. Because Spain hates seeing in her the same eyes as her blond father. Maybe it reminded Spain of his past failures? She hoped so! The more she could piss him off, the better! She smirked. The same smirk she had seen so many times on that pirate ship. The smirk of her pirate father. Colder than ice but fierier than fire, with an evil glint in her green orbs.

Spain growled. He hated seeing that expression on his daughter's face! It reminded him of her pirate father! Worse, it reminded him of his defeat to that pirate father! And he hated to see his own female reflexion with the eyes of that sea monster! Eyes of sparkling emeralds, like precious jewels, deeper than the deepest oceans, and more mysterious than any misty horizon.

"Carmen." He muttered darkly. She ignored him and in fact, her smirk grew wider.

"CARMEN!" He barked, the sudden reaction caused her to jump and lose her composure. She stared at him in confusion. Spain himself didn't understand why he had reacted so drastically. He usually just starts ignoring her until Portugal turns up. So why … why did this time … why couldn't he face up to that expression of hers? It wasn't new. He had seen it on her so many times. And before that, he had seen it so many other times on …

Spain rose up suddenly from his seat and walked out of the house. Victoria noted that he had taken his axe. Not a good sign. She vaguely wondered what could have caused such uproar from her Spanish parent. Her eyes settled on her _Treasure Island_ book as if it held the answer to her question. And maybe it did. Her face lightened as she thought of a sudden, strange, completely unreal and improbable reason to explain Spain's anger. Treasure. Island. A soft smile played on her thin lips and she gingerly rushed after her care-taker, leaving behind her book.

Antonio slammed his axe against another tree. That's the fifth. Four already lay dead on the ground, ripped off from the savage cutting of his axe. He didn't care. His eyes glared at nothing in particular and his mind was clouded with an insatiable thirst. He couldn't bear it. Not anymore. That … that …

Spain growled like an enraged bull and another tree fell. He heard someone shout but didn't pay them any attention. He was in a bad mood and needed to vent off before he accidentally killed someone! Spain knew of his anger management problem. Nowadays, things are peaceful and he rarely needs to get angry … but those who remembered him from his Conquistador times, know NOT to get on his bad side. The only person he would tolerate such behaviour from would be …

"ESPAÑA!"

Antonio's eyes widened as he suddenly saw Carmen jump in front of him, right in the way of his moving axe. Shit! He won't stop his movement in time! Move! Carmen! Move!

"MOVE!" he yelled in panic as he saw her own eyes widen in fear. But she didn't move. Her face showed fear but also determination. In that moment, Spain could have sworn he saw England. Exactly the way the blond nation had looked like the first time they battled at sea. Fear but brave determination. Foolish stubbornness not to back down despite having all the odds against you! And the piercing jades, accusingly staring at him … Antonio closed his eyes, not able to see those green orbs staring at him so intently.

There was a loud crashing sound. A tree fell.

Antonio hesitantly opened his eyes and was relieved to see his daughter still standing in front of him. But panic washed over him as he noticed her bleeding and the wide cut in her shoulder. The axe had evaded her just enough to save her slender neck but not enough to leave her unharmed. But she didn't move. Her expression never changed. No pain showed in her sea emeralds. Antonio felt his body tremble and he dropped his axe, falling to his knees and wrapping his arms around his precious daughter. Why had she come?! She knew not to interfere when he gets an anger crisis! She knew better than anybody else! So why …? He could have lost her! Antonio shivered at the idea and tightened his embrace. He felt her body stiffen and a small breath of pain escaped her lips when he accidentally touches her injury. He immediately lets her go and stares at her still shocked face. He could tell that she had almost seen death just seconds ago.

"Lo siento, mi cara! Lo siento! Lo siento!" he mumbled desperately, holding her hands in his in a praying manner. She tilted her head away, her eyes gazing up at the blue sky. Too blue for her taste. Much too blue. Much too perfect. Without a cloud and a shining sun blazing over her head. Too blue. Too peaceful. Too … too … fake.

"España … did you talk to daddy?" she asked in a hopeful whisper. If anything could make Spain this angry, it had to be her father! She eyed him as the Spaniard stilled suddenly and his expression turned serious. Dead serious.

"Why?"

"Because you wouldn't have snapped otherwise."

"I could be angry for something else."  
"Not _this_ angry."

Antonio hesitated then sighed in defeat. It's no use. She knows him too well.

"Si. We talked."

"What about?"

"He wanted news of your well-being. I told him you were fine."

"That wouldn't be enough."

"We started arguing about petty things."

"Seven trees, Antonio. _Seven_! Last time you snapped, it was only four." Victoria scolded him with an unwavering stare. He shrugged.

"Things happened."

"What happened?"

"… Carmen, just leave it be."

"First of, my name is Victoria! Second, unless you tell me right now what happened, I'll tell dad that you nearly cut me in half and then I'll ask him what all this is about after he comes over to murder you!"

Antonio stayed quiet for a few moments before chuckling lightly. Victoria frowned in confusion before pouting. What's so funny? She was serious!

"Ah … Si. He would not like that." Spain sighed after calming his laughter. He sat down in the grass and pulled his daughter on his lap. She resisted but he was stronger than her. He rested his head against her unwounded shoulder and breathed in her salty scent of the sea so similar to Arthur's.

"España … I'm serious! I will …"  
"I wasn't angry from an argument with Arturo."

Gibraltar silenced. This was the first time Antonio gave up to her threats. And he doesn't seem reluctant to tell her. He must have gone insane! But she listened. She'll decide whether to send him to a mad house or not _after_ he tells her the whole story.

"Then what was it?"

"Jealousy. Just jealousy."

"Jealousy …? What are …?"

"You know about my relationship with your father in our past times?"

She nodded. Yes, Uncle João had told her about it. Spain and England fought, allied, fought again in an endless cycle. He told her about their love affair and called it their Sea of Passion. And then … one time was worse than the others. After the fall of the Spanish Armada, Antonio and Arthur completely broke up. And that was it. She was born much later though. And Arthur was the one to find her on the shores of Spain. It seemed all so accidental, even Gibraltar herself thought her existence was merely an accident. But a very pleasant accident. Arthur recognised his eyes in her own. She remembers the sad and nostalgic smile he offered her when he spoke those words:

"_Do you wish to sail the world with me, little mermaid?"_

She didn't have to think. Why should she? She knew this man, despite having never met him. She instinctly knew him. She nodded eagerly and jumped in his arms. She remembers the salty scent similar to her own. Yes, that was definitely the right decision. And they sailed off.

"Carmen, I know you hate me …" Carmen snapped out of her memories at Antonio's resolute voice. She frowned.

"I don't hate you, España. But I don't like you either." She huffed haughtily. He smiles softly.

"That's exactly the kind of thing _he_ would say."

She didn't answer. There was nothing to say.

"I … I still love your father."

She nodded. She knew that already. She didn't need to be told to figure it out. Besides, who wouldn't love her father? In her opinion, he was the best man in the world!

"I was foolish in my youth. We were rash and let our emotions govern our mind. I made a mistake. I should never have let him go …"

"No. You shouldn't have." Her voice was an accusing whisper. He nodded.

"I've regretted. And I tried to improve our relationship but … it keeps getting in my way."

"What ..?"

"Jealousy, mi cara. Jealousy."

"I don't …"

"Whenever I see him … he's with another. Always with someone. And he always seems so … so close to those people. I get angry. I do stupid things. Sometimes I tease and annoy him because even if he's angry, I want his attention solely on me. Other times, I ignore him, foolishly thinking he might get jealous too. But he never spars me a glance. The only times he comes to me is when he wants news from you. I hate it. I hate seeing his attention drift from left to right … just like at sea, he'd always drift wherever he wanted, not settling for anything fixe. He keeps moving away from me. And I can't hold back his attention anymore. I get jealous. Even of you, mi cara. I get jealous that he only speaks to me because of you. I get jealous because when I see you both together … I wish he could act so caring with me too. And I wish to see you look at me the way you look at him. Not challenging, but loving. And I get jealous."

Victoria remained utterly silenced. Should she say something? Comfort him? Hell no! It's his bloody fault that she can't see her daddy anymore!

"But that's just an everyday occurrence." Spain continued, uninterrupted. "Recently, things changed. You wouldn't know of this, but I've discovered that I'm not the only one with feelings for Arturo."

"… I already knew that."

Spain shot her a surprised glance. She clicked her tongue in exasperated impatience. Was he oblivious or what?

"Romano and Veneziano. China. America. France. And that Prussian friend of yours. All of them, I'm sure."

"Mi cara … how did you …?"

"Unlike you, I pay attention to things around me! Daddy's too busy to take notice but I do. And Portugal also knows."

"… Germany, Japan, Norway, India, Netherlands, and Russia."

The girl jumped in shock.

"Them too?!"

Spain nodded sadly. He had been just as shocked as her. In fact, the biggest shock for him was to learn that Romano was after England too. He had never …

"So what?"

Spain looked down at the pouting girl on his lap. She looked so cute … just like Arturo when he sulks. So childish and cute!

"Carmen?"

"It's Victoria! Fucking Bloody Spaniard!"

"Si … Victoria for Victory."

"Exactly!" She smirked triumphantly. She loved her name. She was proud of it. But right now wasn't about her. She turned a serious frown to her Spanish care-taker. "España, even if there are others … why would that be a problem?"

"… I learned about them due to a series of unexpected events. I had to meet Arturo's siblings …" Antonio frowned at the devilish grin he spotted on his daughter's face when he mentioned the British Isles. "And I'm not exactly sure how but … we ended up with a competition …"

"What competition?" Gibraltar frowned. Hong Kong had mentioned something like that to her in an e-mail, hadn't he? Or was it Iceland?

"A challenge between nations of the world to conquer Arturo's heart."

Gibraltar stared at Spain for many minutes, not able to speak or even process the information. Then she burst in a fit of laughter causing Spain to blush angrily of embarrassment. He did not like to be made fun of by his own daughter. Once she calmed down, Victoria smirked with a thoughtful expression.

"Hum … that is quite a challenge! Making my dad fall won't be easy! And you'll definitely fail without help!"

"… Car- …"

"It's _Victoria_, wanker! And you better get used to it because nobody calls me Carmen back in Britain!"

"Eh?"

"I still would have preferred Uncle Portugal to go out with dad but I guess it can't be helped! Fine! I'll do it!"

"Eh?"

The girl curled up, snuggling on her Spanish father's lap and all she needed was to purr to be a perfect cat. But she wasn't a cat. No. She was a mermaid. A being that captures hearts with beautiful songs. And she will catch hearts. Definitely will if it can mean that she can live with Daddy again!

"I'll help you catch the heart of a pirate." She whispered in a soft giggle. Antonio looked down at her in surprise.

"But … But … Car-Victoria?"

She smiled sweetly back at him. Oh god. She really does remind him of Arturo. So much.

"Si, España?"

"Why …? How …?"

"How? That's for me to know and you to find out. Why? That's because … I wouldn't mind living with both my parents together." Her cheeks flushed slightly as she spoke. She didn't like complimenting Spain but … he was her _Papa_ after all! She expected cries of joy from her over-emotional father. Not a depressing dark mutter.

"It's no use."

She jumped and glared at the disappointing tone of her idiotic parent.

"What? How could you …?"

"Arturo … Romano …"

Oh. So the Italians had already outpaced everyone, had they? Like that's going to stop her!

"So fucking what?" she snapped back acidly. She didn't like Spain's sigh. Not one bit. How could he just give up like that? Stupid Spaniard!

"Are you just going to sit back and let them steal our treasure! Just like that? I thought the Spanish Empire was not one to give up on his possessions! I thought you wouldn't let pirates steal even a penny from you!"

Spain took a very old and very strange expression. Gibraltar smirked.

"Is The Empire of the Sun so weak that he can't even deal with a couple of Mafiosi? I'm disappointed! You're willing to let your treasure slip away!"

Spain's grip tightened sharply around her shoulders. She winced from the pain. The blood still leaking but neither paid attention to it.

"If you're that weak, don't even dare to claim your passion for my father!" The pirate girl whispered darkly.

"Weak? _Who_ are you calling weak?" She smiled at the low growl in Antonio's voice. Looks like the old Empire was back! And what better conqueror than _The Conquistador_! She'll need at least _that_ to conquer back her father's heart!

"Hum? I thought you had given up? I thought you felt threatened by the Italians …"

"Threatened?! I am _never_ threatened by _anyone_! If anybody dares to step on my property, I'll rip them to shreds and feed them to sharks! If those Italian kids think they can steal what's mine … If _anyone_ thinks he can steal MY treasure …"

Gibraltar didn't need to listen to the flow of threats and insults. She knew very well how possessive and passionate Spain is. So very passionate. And anybody who dared to stand in his way will be washed away. She smirked. Only a pirate could challenge the conqueror of the seas. And only an Island could charm the ex-maritime Empire. And only the finest of treasures would cause such a furious folly of anger overwhelm the Spaniard. No sun will shine forever without the breaking of a storm. And only she could stop the raging storm ahead. But where was the fun in that? Victoria smirked. Victory flows in her blood like water in the sea. And nobody will stop her from getting what she wants. She'll conquer like a Spanish and steal like an English if she must. But she will get what she wants. Then … the storm might ease down.

"Come on, Carmen! Let's take care of that wound! Your dad might kill me otherwise!"

"Si, he definitely would, _Papa_."


	26. Chapter 22 - Like Father, Like Son

Hong Kong

**Like Father, like Son**

"Aiya! Hong Kong! You'd better stop hiding and come out right now, mister! Give me back those poems! HONG KONG!"

The young Chinese man with distinct European features and thick eyebrows walked out from behind a closet. His face was as straight and expressionless as usual. China's angry eyes darted towards the man taller than him. He always hated that Hong Kong was taller. And also …

"Hong Kong! Give me back my poems!"

"What poems, shifu?"

"The ones you took from my personal locker in my room! How you even managed to open it is beyond me!" China fumed. He was angry. Very angry. But Hong Kong simply shrugged dismissively.

"Easy. Dad showed me how pick locks and undo codes."

China's eye twitched and he hissed between gritted teeth in annoyance.

"OH? He did, did he? That …! That …!"

"He said I needed at least a minimum of MI6 training. Just in case."

"In case of WHAT? Aru! Don't you listen to that man! He's bad influence on you! I'm sick of your sneaking around and your blackmailing! You're becoming like him!"

For a moment, China thought he saw the ghost of a smile on Hong Kong's lips but it vanished so fast it was probably just an optic illusion. Hong Kong shrugged and decided that this conversation was getting boring. So he walked off to his room.

"Hong Kong! Get back here this instant! Aru! I am not finished talking to you!" China shouted before rushing after him.

He found the younger nation sprawled out on his bed holding a sheet of paper that he was reading and that looked very much like one of China's poems. The older man's face turned red instantly and panic rushed over him. He reached out to grab the poem away but Hong Kong was too fast, too tall, and held the paper away from China's grip. The man cursed as he felt Hong Kong push him back with more strength than he had. It's infuriating.

It's soooo infuriating that your own _son_ is able to push you off like you were nothing more than an annoying cat. And he's too tall! Much too tall for a Chinese! And those damn European traits! But most of all … those stupid eyebrows! They fit him well … but that's the problem! They keep reminding China of the man responsible for them! And why can't Hong smile a bit more? Why is he so goddamn serious all the time with a cold expressionless face! Just like HIM! Exactly like HIM!

Hong Kong watched his shifu curse and grumble all the while sending him dark glares. He didn't care. He knew why China was angry and he had good reason to be. The taller man glanced to the poem he was still holding, his dark brown eyes laughed at the content of it. This was China's poem. Written by China about China's feelings for a certain someone. Someone with … how does he say it? Oh yes …

_Eyes like jewels, deeper than the seas of his travels - Hair like gold, flowing with winds of his North - Skin like pearls, marred by infinite proofs of glorious battles - An enchanting smile, inviting you on board to sail off into the crystal horizon - His laugh rings across lands of the world, a soft tease, childish and innocent, and the world cannot but listen - The red of blood, his coat is the last thing I see as he walks away, again searching for another discovery._

Hong Kong let a small smirk corner his lips. That was only _one_ poem. He had discovered countless more in China's safe. And that is good blackmailing material! Definitely! He could easily bribe China into letting him take a holiday off to England! He really wanted to see his father again! The brown eyes shifted from the poem to the sulking Chinese man.

"Shifu, I'll give you one poem back for each day you give me to leave China."

The smaller man lifted suspicious golden eyes, very similar to ones of a dragon. It amused Hong Kong very much how nations could show resemblances to animals. He vaguely wondered what animal he could be compared to.

"If you wanted a holiday, all you needed to do is ask."

"I want to go to England."

"NO! Absolutely NOT! I am not letting you go anywhere near _that man_!"

Hong Kong raised a questioning eyebrow and started reading out loud the words of the poem. China's face turned redder than the blood red of England's pirate coat in the poem. He reached for the poem once more and this time is fast enough to catch it. Holding the sheet dearly against his chest, almost trying to hide it, Yao wished he could simply disappear forever. He never wanted anyone to see those words. And the last person … no, the _second_ last person on earth whom he wanted to see was the one blackmailing him with it! That boy is just …! Just …! Just so like _him_! Now, China clearly saw the teasing smile on Hong Kong's face. The exact same smile he had seen so many times on _that man's_ pale face.

"Shall I phone Dad and tell him all the wonderful things you wrote about him? Shifu?" Hong Kong's voice was cold but China heard the amusement ring through every word. He looked and sounded like _him_. So much like _him_.

"NO! P-please! No! He … He must never … Th-That was ages ago …"

"Then give me permission to go see him."

"NO! If I let you go, you'll tell him!"

"I won't. I keep my promises. If you give me a day in England for each poem, then I'll promise not to speak a single word of what I saw or what just happened now."

"… Why are you doing this, Hong?"

"I want to see my father. Why won't you let me?"

Yao cringed at the accusation and hidden anger he discerned in Hong's voice. Rarely did the young man show signs of emotion. And when he did, China knew how serious the boy was.

"I'm scared … I'm scared he'll take you away from me again …" China whispered after a long silence.

"… But I never was yours to begin with." Hong Kong stated, causing China's eyes to widen as he stared at the boy. "Hong Kong was born from British colonising. I'm not solely yours. In fact, dad says that I only belong to myself."

China's eyes narrowed. His breath hissed like a snake.

"Dad this! Dad that! You're always talking about him! How do you even know what he would say to you? You don't see him anymore!"

"We Skype. I had to ask Japan to help him install the webcam." Hong chuckled as he remembered.

Yao stared in shock. Hong had actually _laughed_? And what was that about Japan? The older man frowned angrily.

"Well, you seem very good friends with Japan! Aru!"

"Not really. But Mei is." Hong shrugged, grabbing his phone and starting to play with it.

"Taiwan?"

"Yeah. Oh and she told me about that competition thing you and the other nations are having."

China didn't think he could blush anymore but he did. Hong glanced sideways, head tilted, in deep thought. When he spoke, his voice was cautious but with an unusual eagerness to it.

"If you win … does that mean I'll be able to stay with dad more often?"

"W-what?!" China chocked.

"If you go out with dad like in the past, then you'll let me see him, right? If so, then I'll help you."

"Y-you … what …?"

"I'll help you seduce my dad." Hong concluded his eyes shifting back to his phone. He already considered this conversation over. China however didn't and could only stare agape at the young man on the bed.

"… Why?" he muttered darkly.

If anything, China wasn't even sure he wanted to go out with England. Ok, no, he did. But, just not yet. His heart wanted England but his mind screamed that it was a mistake. Another opium war was the last thing he wanted! Ah … but the soft touch of England … No! That's just fantasy! Besides, England would never agree to go out with him! He could have anyone … literally. With all those sexy Europeans around him … How could England even think of looking at him?

"Because I want my daddy." A soft, slightly childish complain reached Yao's ears, interrupting his thoughts. He looked down at the frowning young man on the bed. Hong had a pout on his face (well, the closest you get to a pout on Hong Kong) and his cheeks were slightly pink. He kept his eyes fixed on the mobile's screen, not daring to look at his Chinese parent. China smiled softly. No matter how cold or devious his son was, he knew that Hong still had the heart of a child.

"Hong … I don't want you to keep on looking up to him." China explained gently. "I'm worried he might turn you like him … you already look and act so much like him … I'm worried."

"… But what if I _want_ to be like him?" Hong whispered angrily.

"Don't. Just like Arthur said: You are an individual. Aru .And I don't want you to be like him … or like me. I want you to be yourself."

Hong Kong, for the first time, looked at China with what seemed like respect in his deep brown eyes. China could only smile weakly at his son. Hong was so cute he looked like an adorable little panda!

"I still want to see him." Hong stated as if it were an absolute universal rule.

"… Hong …" Yao sighed but got interrupted.

"It's not _Hong_! My name is Leon Hong Kirkland!" Hong Kong growled angrily as he rolled on his bed, turning his back to Yao.

"… I know. And I'm using your second name. Please … Hong …"

Silence.

China sighed.

"Leon, I will allow you to see your father."

The Cantonese man jumped in both surprise and excitement, a large grin adorned his face as he turned to look at China but it vanished in an instant. Hong would never show that much a smile for too long to anyone … or maybe he might for England. Yao hoped he was not making a mistake.

"For each poem a day?" Hong smirked with a dangerous glint in his eyes. God , he looked so much like _him_!

"Yes. Aru. But … about the competition … I don't …"

"I'll help you! We'll definitely win! I won't let anybody else get my dad!" Hong's tone changed to determined and slightly murderous as he glared at no one in particular.

Yao sighed. That is exactly what he doesn't want. Blackmail is fine. He can deal with Hong's mischief but if the boy got serious, he could really hurt people. A panda may look cute but it is a bear able to rip you to pieces. And Yao was worried if Hong actually succeeded. He still wasn't sure if he _could_ go out with England. He clenched the poem in his hand.

Of course, he wanted Arthur. So badly. He wanted to feel his touch, hear his voice, gaze in his eyes. But he was scared. He was scared of a repetition of last time's disaster. And more than that, he was scared Arthur might not want him. But he couldn't bear to see Arthur with another nation. What a stupid competition! If only things had remained the way they were!

"Shifu, do you love dad?"

Yao looked at the awaiting stare of his charge. Hong knew the answer. But that's not why he asked that question. His face was as cold and calculating as England's when he thinks up strategies. And China could only sigh. No matter how much he denied it, he loved England, and he loved seeing him through Hong. He loved noticing the resemblance yet the distinct few differences between father and son.

"You are as annoying and meddling as your father." The old nation grumbled and walked away.

Hong watched him leave and once he was sure to be alone in his room, he allowed a wide pleased smile to greet his lips. He was proud of being similar to his father. But he wasn't like him! Oh no! He knew very well that he was not the same. And that was fine. He didn't want to be like England. He wanted to be Hong Kong, son of England and China. With his smile still on his face, he dialled a number on his phone.

"Hello?" a strong English accented voice answered.

Excitement made Leon chuckle. He couldn't stop smiling and that is not something Hong Kong does often. The man on the other end of the line seemed to have recognised his laugh.

"Leon?"

"Dad … I'm coming home!"


	27. Chapter 23 - Brother of Mine

Wales

**Brother of mine**

The dark haired Briton opened his eyes as he felt someone take away his earphones and the drumming of his loud music. His eyes met the identical ones of his lovely brother. He smiled softly, leaning against the oak tree of Arthur's garden. Said Arthur sat down next to him and turned down the volume of his Ipod.

"You're going to blow you eardrums if you listen to it this loud." He scolded his older brother, earning himself a soft dismissive smile.

"You came here because you're worried about my health?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're here to scold me."

"Well done, Sherlock!" Arthur rolled his eyes before staring seriously at his impassive brother.

"I want you and the others to stop meddling in my business. My relationship with others is for me to manage. I don't need you or anybody's help."

"Aye Aye Captain grumpy." Wales smiled with a neutral face.

"Connor, this is serious. I don't want any of you to go out of hand."

"But aren't you worried you might be the one to lose it?" a teasing curiosity shone in the neutral green eyes of the older one. Arthur froze for a minute. He kept a straight and unreadable face but Connor knew that he was carefully considering his words. It's no wonder. They all knew that out of British Isles, Arthur was the deadliest when he lost control. Granted it didn't happen often and the kid has become extremely good at self-control and managing his emotions, but it might happen again if he's pushed too far.

"I don't want you to stress me out even more. It'll be easier for me to manage if I have less people to deal with." Arthur concluded coldly.

Connor hummed, his lay-back expression never changing once as he stared at his cold faced brother. He had no explanation as to why his heartbeat accelerated each time he looked at England. He could not find any decent reason as to why his dreams are haunted by visions of a naked Arthur and possible sexual relations with him. And he knew very well that it was not normal for him to be this obsessed in his little brother. But what can you do when your brother is too hot for his own good?! The Welsh sighed and leaned sideways, resting his head on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur was taller than him. Taller and more elegant. Wales felt slightly envious of him but also, his envy turned to attraction every time he met the identical eyes of his brother. They had the same eyes. Shinning emeralds of their ever-green land. All the British Isles had green eyes, eyes of their mother Britannia. But Arthur's were different. The look in them was different. Ireland had a laughing and carefree look, North a temperamental and excited one, Scotland a cheeky and cunning but good-hearted look, Wales himself had a lay-back almost dazed look that made it feel like he was elsewhere (which he was. His mind is a much more interesting place than reality.)

And Arthur … he had a cold and calculating look that hid care and compassion. Arthur was one with the deepest gaze Connor had ever seen. It felt like the depth of the seas, swallowing you up into darkness. But darkness is never one to bring happiness, is it? Connor could never stop the aching in his heart whenever he saw this impossible depth of sorrow in Arthur's eyes. If only he could change that. If only he could make his beloved brother smile. It didn't matter if Arthur didn't love him. He was well aware of that. As long as Arthur was close to him, it didn't matter. He loved his brother too much to want to force him to love him back. But because he loved him too much, Connor could not allow any of those fuckers to even dare to consider going out with _his_ brother! None of them was worthy of Arthur!

Unconsciously, Connor's arms snaked around Arthur's waist and held him possessively. Arthur frowned slightly at that but said nothing. It's unusual for Wales to be so emotional and affectionate. Usually, the man would rather watch from afar and occasionally comment on things. Plus he would never show any sign of affection towards any of his brothers, especially not Arthur. They both stayed in this comfortable silence, not wanting to end it. In a way, it was painful for Connor. He loved Arthur but he could never actually touch him. Every time he tried to avoid physical contact with his younger sibling from fear of doing something he would later regret. He loved Arthur but never would he be able to tell him. And so he'll just have to suffer silently. Because if he dared any more than being a brother … Connor was afraid of completely losing his lovely little brother (also Scotland and the others might seriously consider murder). It's so painful!

"Connor? What's wrong?" Arthur noticed his brother's body trembling and his grip around him tightening. But the brown haired man didn't seem to hear him. Patting gently Connor's head, his fingers ran through the soft wool aspect of his brown hair, Arthur managed to make the other relax.

"What's wrong?" He repeated and waited for a while until he got an answer. He never stopped caressing his brother's hair, soothing the other.

"Arthur … what if someone fell in love with someone he shouldn't?"

"Wha …? What are you talking about?" Arthur frowned in confusion.

"Suppose that you fell in love with America. How would you feel?"

"I don't love America that way."

"I know. I know. He's like your little brother. I know that. But if you were to fall in love with him … what would you do? On the one hand you love and care for him as your little brother. You have to be a model for him and protect him. But on the other hand, you can't stop your heart from throbbing each time you see his face. You can't stop yourself from wishing more intimate contact with him yet you know that you are forbidden to. You dream of him and curse yourself for it. You end up avoiding him because if you didn't who knows what you might do. You fear of breaking his trust and yet you long for his affection. You love him but you know that you can't have him."

"… Are we still talking hypothetically?"

"… Yes."

"And your question is?"

"What would you do in such a case?"

Arthur fell silent, brooding over the question. Wales waited, hiding his blushing face in Arthur's shoulder and stubbornly looking downwards. Good thing that he is shorter than Arthur.

"If it were me and America … I can't imagine what I would do. I can't imagine the turmoil of emotion you talk about. But … to be honest, I would probably want to tell him how I feel. Not in order to go out with him. I wouldn't consider that. In fact I think I would confess but never go beyond that point. Not giving him the chance to answer me. Because I would be scared. If he said no, I would fear the pain of his rejection. If he said yes, I would fear the thrill of my unhealthy desire. I guess, the best way for me to move on would be to admit to Alfred how I feel but never let us have that kind of relationship. If I confess, I would feel half of my anxiousness dissipate and it might … on a long term, help me overcome this pain and find a new person to give my love to. Did that make sense?" Arthur frowned then smiled gently at his brother.

Connor stayed quiet. Strangely enough, Arthur's suggestion sounded … appropriate. Of course, everything Arthur had assumed was real. All of the struggle and the contradictions … maybe that solution was best. And if Arthur was the one to give it him, then maybe he'll understand his feelings.

"But that's just hypothetical. I don't have anyone in mind right now, so I can't relate well to this situation." Arthur suddenly spoke dismissively. Connor's eyes widen in sudden relieve and surprise. Arthur didn't love anyone? That's … wonderful! Yes, he wasn't allowed to love Arthur but just knowing that he had no competition in Arthur's heart made him feel so much better.

"So please don't go around murdering my friends, will you?"

"I didn't murder anybody yet." Connor smirked.

"Yeah, right! Russia had to be urgently hospitalised that night. And why did you use your dragon?! Alongside that, Belarus is traumatised."

"That was North. I only dealt with the Snowman bastard. He was being forceful on you. He deserved to die."

"Yes, yes. But Russia is forceful on everyone!"

"Except he doesn't go about raping everyone, does he? Last time I checked, that was France's range of expertise."

"Well, yes but …"

"But?"

"But I can deal with those bastards myself! Not all of them are like Russia!"

"You're referring to that German?"

"I told you! Germany wasn't feeling well and I was just taking his temperature."

"And you think I'm that thick? I saw you on top of him!" Betrayal rang acidly in Connor's voice.

"You just showed up at the wrong moment! I was checking his forehead and you just assumed things due to our positions!" Arthur yelled with a fierce blush (he still thought it best not to explain what _really_ happened). Connor huffed, unconvinced.

"You've also been hanging around those Italies again …"

"I just met with each of them once … And how did you know that?! Have you been spying on me?"

"…"

"… You sent your bloody dragon! Connor! I told you to keep that thing away from public eyes!"

"But they can't see Ruby!"

"I don't care! Some people can! Norway and Romania might have …"  
"Oh, _them_." Connor muttered darkly. He particularly didn't like those two because they would hang around Arty almost as much as the American idiot.

"Yes, _them_! They're my friends! In fact my closest friends along with Portugal. So don't talk about them like that!"

"I don't like them."

"Why? Because they can see and use magic like us?"

"That and because they look suspicious. That Norway guy was a Viking, wasn't he? And that Romanian looks like he will drain your blood given the chance."

"Look, stop brooding over the past! Yes, Norway was a Viking and yes, Romania looks like a Vampire. But that doesn't mean that we can't be friends! There are actually really cool guys once you get to know them!"

"I'm not convinced."

"You're never satisfied anyway!"

Arthur glared angrily at his brother before moving his head away, sulking furiously and glaring at everything in sight. Connor had kept his head down throughout the whole conversation, hiding the intensity of his emotions transpiring through his expressions. He was furious at both England and himself. Why couldn't Arthur see that he was only trying to protect him? On the other hand, why could he never manage to protect his younger brother? Every time … Scott is the one Arty calls for help (not that Arty calls for help often … if ever). The Welsh shot a quick glance at his blond brother's face. Fuck. Why did he fall in love with his little brother? What kind of sick person is he?

"You're right. I'm not satisfied." Connor ushered in a breath. He watched Arthur roll his eyes at the comment.

"I'm never satisfied." He straightened his upper body, leaning into his brother's more slender frame. Arthur watched him do with a confused frown. He looked about to speak but Connor was quick enough to steal his lips. Grabbing one of Arthur's wrists, he pulled his brother closer and let his free hand roam into Arthur's golden mane as he pressed their lips together with passion.

"And I never will be satisfied." The brown haired brother whispered as he tried to catch his breath after what probably was his best kiss ever. Arthur's lips were so soft and sweet! Now he was even more addicted … It will be hard to keep self-control now.

Arthur just stared at his brother, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as his brain seemed to have frozen dead on the incoming information of recent events. Connor couldn't help but smile softly at how cute Arthur looked when he's baffled. And that soft pink blush on his cheeks … adorable~! Leaning in again, Connor heard Arthur's breath hitch as the blond anticipated his actions. But the Welsh merely laughed as he pecked his lips and retreated.

"So confess then make sure that the other cannot give you back an answer, right?" Connor smirked as he felt his hands move up on Arthur's thighs. This was getting dangerous. He should stop now before he made a mistake.

"Wha …?" a sharp surprised breath escaped Arthur's lips on his stupefied expression.

"Hypothetically, what would you do if you were America and if England wanted to fuck you?" Wales chuckled as he pecked his brother's lips once more, then let his mouth linger there, enjoying the feeling of their lips together. He deepened their kiss, ignoring Arthur's moan of complain. His hand moved up to Arthur's belt and unbuckling it while his other hand was busying itself feeling Arthur's abs under his shirt.

"C-Connor … What …" Arthur stuttered, unable to stop the very annoying feeling of pleasure his brother was giving him as he grinded their body together. Damn it! The bastard is doing it on purpose! "Stop iiiiit …" Arthur hissed angrily.

Connor stopped and seemed to debate on his action so far. A greedy grin took over his facial expression and the insane look in his eyes convinced Arthur that his brother was out of control. Bloody great.

"Get of-stop! N-no! Stop it!" He kept hissing in hopes of reasoning the broader man. Wales may be smaller but his strong figure was built for power and Arthur knew just how strong Connor could be. The guy spent his time taming weird deadly magical beasts! And not only dragons (guess Australia took after him concerning his taste in pets)! But Arthur was no push over either. As he felt his shirt being unbuttoned, Arthur flipped positions with his brother and immobilised him flat on the floor, their faces inches apart and both breathing heavily.

"Yeah. One kiss and a confession. And then you leave before I give you my answer." He whispered in Connor's ear. A flicker of realisation and guilt passed in the Welsh's eyes. He watched as Arthur got off him and walked away, face red and hiding his hard on (thanks to whom?). Connor had a hard on too. Much harder than Arthur's. But he didn't move yet. Seconds later, Arthur came back frowning slightly as he glared furiously at his brother.

"And to answer your question, if I were America and being raped by England, despite this never getting a chance to happen, I would probably have punched England to the point where he would need urgent hospitalisation. Thankfully for you, I'm not America and therefore I don't have his insane strength or his simple-mindedness." And he walked away again. Connor let out a small chuckle followed by a sigh. He messed up. Bloody great. Should have never kissed the lad. The older man just realised that had Arthur not been strong enough to stop him, Connor might have made the biggest mistake of his life.

"Why did I fall in love with my brother? Once he hears this, Scott's going to kill me." He sighed in defeat and walked away to the bathroom to relieve himself.

**AN: Sorry for the wait! I've been studying for exams and had assignments to prepare :'( (I hate essays). Well, it was history essays so I had fun thinking about Grandpa Rome, the British Empire and Shôwa Japan. Really fun. Anyway, I apologise for the late update but this fic is really getting me struggling! It's not easy to write a chapter for every damn nation who can't keep their hands off Arty!**

**I would also like to thank you all for your reviews! I love to read them and appreciate all of your comments! If you have ideas … please tell me! And don't worry, I will eventually reach your favourite pairing at some point before 2013! Otherwise, "2012 end of the world by Scotty" will not really be valid anymore. ;p**

**So just stop pestering me about "When will we get to see SpUK?" (which is wrong since UK = NOT JUST ENGLAND, but I use it too so never mind) or "I want to see Norway!" I know you guys are impatient but why don't you try to write an England x the world competition-like fiction! But I still love you guys and all your reviews! Even if you complain, I still find it fun!**

**So yeah, I'll try and keep at it so just bear with me and be patient! Thanks to all~! Cheerio!**


	28. Chapter 24 - Not a Nice Guy

France

**Not a nice guy**

* * *

**AN: Hey guys, actually my computer got infected by a virus and even after getting it fixed, all my files on this fic were gone! Kapput! So I had to rewrite those chapters. I'm not overly satisfied with this one but … oh well, hope you like it.**

* * *

Finally!

Finally peace and quiet! No meeting turning to chaos, no prime minister yelling over the phone, no broken official building, no bloody wankers to bother him, no bloody annoying over-protective siblings, no nothing! Perfection!

Arthur sighed in bliss as he switched on his telly and replayed a recorded episode of Doctor Who, his tea warm and set on the table in front of him, laid down on his sofa and finally allowing himself to relax and do nothing all day! It's been so wild and crazy recently, he never had time for himself to relax and just … yeah, just lay back and enjoy.

_Ding Dong._

"I spoke too soon." Arthur growled as he reluctantly got up and went to answer the door. Luckily, nobody else was around. Wales was gone back to his home for business reasons, Ireland is still grounded by his boss and forbidden anywhere near the UK for quite a while, and North is … where the fuck is she? Who cares, as long as she isn't around! In fact, the only one left is Scotland still sleeping upstairs. It is Saturday morning after all … well, nearly lunch time but never mind.

Arthur blinked.

Once.

Red roses.

Twice.

Sparkling blue eyes.

Thrice.

"Bonjour, petit maître~!" elegant French accent purred but sounded awfully wrong with the English spoken words.

And … Arthur walked back to his Doctor Who episode, ignoring the yelling, pleading, and banging on his front door.

About fifteen minutes later, Scott's grouchy face popped into the living room. He lifted a questioning eyebrow at his blond brother who was still sipping his tea, watching the telly and ignoring a still complaining Frenchman outside. Did I mention it was raining?

"Ain't ye gun to answer?" the Scotsman spoke while dropping himself next to his curled up brother. Both were still in their pyjamas and for moment, their attention was taken by the "exterminate" sounds of Daleks. Out of the blues, Arthur got up and went to the kitchen, he brought back his own cup of tea refilled and an extra one that he handed to his red hair brother. Scott took it without a word, his eyes glued to the TV screen as he felt Arthur sit back down next to him and curl himself back into a ball like he previously was. They liked to snuggle together on the sofa, drinking tea and watching a random distracting film. It was nice, quiet and relaxing. Excepted there was still a desperate French frog outside shivering in the cold rain that now started to pour down in buckets.

"He's still out there." The older man spoke nonchalantly. Arthur shrugged back.

"So?"

"Tis rainin' ta."

"So?"

"He'll catch a cold."

"Get to the point and stop stating the obvious, will you? You want me to let him in?"

"It'd be nice o' ye."

"I'm not a nice guy. Don't you know this by now?"

"Aye, aye, I ken … bu' th'lad 'll get sick."

"He's your friend, not mine. Why don't you go and take care of him at your place and stop squatting my house as if it were a holiday resort!"

"It ain't?" Sott grinned maliciously before getting a cushion stuffed in his face.

"Listen here, the frog is not stepping a single toe in my house, understood?"

"Aye, Aye, Cap'n Grouchy! I could take him ta th'pub …" Scotland started musing to himself, utterly ignored by his younger brother as he got up and went to his room to get dress. He came back down 10 minutes later, still in deep thought and mumbling to himself. His train of thoughts was interrupted by the blonde's call from the living room.

"Be sure to be back before 9! And not drunk!"

"I thought yer house ain't a _holiday resort_!" The older brother retorted back with a tease. He heard his brother huff and could even imagine him rolling his eyes.

"I just don't want you to fuck up my side of the island!"

"Aye, 'course! See ye later, brat!" Scott laughed as he opened the door on a very a wet and very angry Frenchman.

Before France had time to comprehend what was happening, he was already dragged into a car and heading into town for a drink. The continental nation slowly realised what he was in for and sighed, resigned to spend another night listening to a very drunk Scot. Not the best of his evening perspectives. He threw out his drenched flowers, dark thoughts clouding his mind as he let the cheery red hair drive him to the nearest pub.

* * *

**AN: I'm lazy so I'm going to stop modifying the British Isles' speech. Plus, in this conversation, Scotland and France mix various languages as they talk to**

**each other so really, I feel it would be much easier to just put it down in plain normal English.**

* * *

France watched the golden liquid slowly drain out of the glass and disappear in the red hair's mouth. How many has it been? A full bottle of whisky, two bottles of rum and … just how many beers did he have?! France quickly lost count and remained careful not to abuse of his wine as he knew full well that someone (aka him) would have to drag the drunken Scot back to Arthur's house. Worse part is: He'd have to face a very pissed off Arthur once the blond Briton discovers the state his brother came home in. And France would obviously be held responsible! Lovely!

"I think you had enough, Scott. Arthur's going to be mad at me if I let you drink too much." Francis tried reaching for the pint in Scott's hand but the red hair moved his drink out of reach and leaned in closer to the Frenchman. His breath smelled or alcohol to the point of making France cough uncomfortably at it, his face was red and his emerald eyes dazed in a sort of far off look as he took in Francis' own face.

"You know … you're not half bad looking … for a frog."

"Am I meant to take this as a compliment? You sound worse than your brother!"

"Which one?"

"The one that hates me! The one that would gladly murder me if I were to step foot in his house! The one that _will_ murder me if I bring you back drunk and dead!"

Scotland stayed thoughtful before grinning widely.

"Aye? So which one? Frankly, all would murder you if you went to their house, all would murder you if you brought me back drunk and especially dead, and all hate you at a more or lower degree."

"The one that refuses to see me or even let me in when I'm standing at his door in pouring rain after I went through all the trouble of visiting him!"

Scott seemed to think for a minute as he tried to recall then burst out into a roar of laughter, leaving a brooding French to twirl his red wine in his glass as he glared daggers in the laughing man.

"Oh right! Arty said: _I am not letting the frog step a single toe in my house_! Or something like that! S'why I took you to the pub!"

"Great. You just made my day perfect."

"Aw! C'mon! S'not the end of the world! Arty likes you although he won't actually say it, he really does care a lot about you, Francis!"

"But not enough to be nice?"

"… Nah, that's not it. He's just not a nice guy. That's all."

For a second, Francis shot Scott an odd look of confusion but the Scotsman's face showed no irony or sarcasm after those words. He had meant every one of them.

"It wouldn't kill him to be cordial at least." France muttered darkly, only to receive another fit of laughter.

"It might kill him actually! Like I said: Arty ain't a nice guy! Because if he were he'd be like Italy and what kind of brother of mine would he be if he'd end such a wimp as that?"

"And what about being a gentleman and taking care of your guests?"

"Gentleman … Nah, Arty's a gentleman with ladies only. You're not a lady. Sorry mate!" Scotland rolled to the floor, laughing hysterically.

"Scott, I'm seriously starting to think of murdering you right now."

"Alright, alright! I'm sorry! But why are you so pissed anyway? And why'd you come all the way here? The weather?"

"Ha ha. Very funny. If you say that word one more time, I swear, I 'll give you back to Arthur in tiny pieces!"

Scotland snickered at France's dark evil glare. You don't usually get to see France's dark side, as he tends to hide it from others. Only a hand full of nations knew about it. And Scotland was the one to have faced it most. And he's also the only one not to feel threatened or scared by it. Why? Well, because Scotland is quite used to managing dark fusing of anger from both his alliance time with France and from his brother England. Besides, when _he_ snaps, he's even worse, so in comparison, Scotland can take one most angry nations without any problem.

"Relax! Just joking, froggy!"

"Call me that again …"

"Okay, I won't! Why are you so sensitive tonight, Jimmy? You still angry because Arty snubbed you? Shouldn't you be used to it by now?"

"It's not about Arthur … Actually, it is about Arthur! And you know full well what I'm talking about!"

"… Aye, I ken. But you also know that I don't and will not approve, aye?"

"Like I care! It's not like Arthur's anywhere near interested in me! He hates me! And I hate myself for loving him! Do you have any idea how painful it is? I hate him almost as much as I love him!"

"… He doesn't _hate_ you."

"Don't pity me! I know he does!"

"No, he doesn't. I told you already. He cares about you. But he definitely won't fall for you. And you know why."

"Yes! Yes! I know why! And you're not helping!"

"I'm not trying to help. In fact, I'd have to kill you if I wasn't so sure that you stood no chance."

Scotland's intoxication was slowly leaving his face as he turned quite serious. Francis watched him blankly for a minute before sighing in defeat. It wasn't new. Frankly, for centuries, Francis had felt more than just affection towards his little master but he also knew very well that this love was an unrequited one. Why? Because England would never love him. Because for England, France was almost a brotherly figure. One he both hates and loves, respects and despises, but he will never, ever, ever be more than that. A friend. A brother. Whatever you can think of but never a lover.

But that's not new.

And it's also the reason why he and Scotland are such close friends. The red hair doesn't feel in the least worried of France's influence on his brother. That's why he actually enjoys talking about his brother with the Frenchman as Francis, despite wanting more, still has that affectionate brotherly love towards his young master. And if that's all he's going to get. Then he'll have to deal with it.

"That sucks. For the country of love to feel so miserable because of love … and getting rejected over the centuries … I'm quite pathetic." Francis chuckled an empty sad laugh.

"You're not pathetic. You're just human." The Scot answered as he took another sip of his beer.

"I told you to stop! Young Master will kill me if I bring you back drunk! In fact, I'm still trying to figure out how you're not drunk yet after all that!"

"Because I'm Scottish!"

"If that's your argument when you fight with Arthur, it's no wonder he always wins."

"Oi! He doesn't always win!"

"I bet 90%"

"I'll show you 90% of punching in your pretty face if you like!"

"I'll pass. Hand over the beer." Francis forcefully took the pint and downed it like water, immediately ordering another one under the shocked look of Scotland.

"You're trying get drunk or what?"

"What does it look like, genius?"

"Then forget the beer. Take the whisky."

* * *

Arthur stared at the two nations in his doorway. It's past 11pm, dark and cold outside, the car looks like it hit a tree on the way back and … well, at least the idiot looks less drunk than Arthur expected him to be. He's a lot less drunk than the knocked out Frenchman he was carrying. Scotland stumbled on his feet, tittering from left to right, a bright and goofy smile on his face as he was met with his brother.

"Oi! Laddy! How's it going! Did you know Francis becomes really violent when he's drunk!" the man giggled almost childishly as he half pointed at the snoring drunk blond on his shoulder. Arthur lifted an eyebrow and gave his brother a pointed look.

"I said 9 o'clock."

"Aye?"

"It's half past 11."

"Aye?"

"And you're drunk. Both of you."

"Aye?"

"Get in before I change my mind."

"Aye!"

Arthur growled as he took the Frenchman off from Scotland's tittering body and lay him down on the sofa before guiding his drunken brother to his room. Good thing about Scotland, when he usually gets drunk, he tends to be more cheerful than usual. As long as you remain careful not to piss him off because then he'd go wild and insane. France, on the other hand, gets wild and insane no matter what you do. When he's drunk (and Arthur had experienced enough of it), not light drunk, but seriously knocked out cold drunk, he goes into his raging mode and often breaks more buildings than Scotland would on his own.

After tucking his brother to bed, checking on North to make sure she was sleeping (she had come back during the day, not saying a word on where she was off to), the Englishman went to tend to his unwanted guest. He stared at France's sleeping face and dropped a cover on the man before switching the lights off.

"You're cooking breakfast tomorrow, Frenchie." Arthur smirked before heading for his own room.

* * *

**AN: In Scotland (at the very least in Glasgow) people call "Jimmy" other people they meet in the street. It comes from King James who had a reputation of going around town and the people would therefore call the person they met Jimmy just in case it happened to be the King. But they kept it quite familiar as to not raise suspicion and such, especially if the King is incognito (why would he do that, I have no idea). Interesting fact, I thought.**


	29. Chapter 25 - Girls' Chat

**Girls' chat**

"Alright girls! It's time for our monthly Yaoi Club reunion!" Hungary spoke with a large grin as she faced her female audience.

Once a month, she would gather a group of Yaoi fangirls at her house (She'd make sure that Roderich is out visiting Switzerland or Germany or Spain during that day). Usually it's a small group of mainly herself, Belgium, Taiwan, and sometimes Liechtenstein (when she escaped her brother's attention). But today she also has Seychelles, Vy, Vietnam, Ukraine and strangely enough Gibraltar came too. Even more strange … Belarus came. Ok. That's not normal but maybe she can turn the murderous northern girl into a BL fan? Worth a try! Hungary frowned. Counting out the unusual guests, she also felt observed and was slightly worried but she brushed it off as her imagination … or Prussia. And if it is Prussia, he'll soon be in deep pain and meeting her new frying pan.

"So what the fuck do you do in those Yao-whatever meeting?" Victoria asked with a sceptical lifted eyebrow.

"Well, usually we just focus on the new mangas Japan sends us and we have chats about the world's yaoi pairings. We compare our ideas and such. Oh, sometimes we even write fics of our own and share it with the others of the club. But all this must remain secret from the boys. I don't want Roderich to get a heart attack if he finds my fic of him and Prussia." Elisaveta explains, a creepy smile on her face as she spoke that last part.

"What's yaoi?" Vy piped out of her childish girly voice. She was only a child after all. Ukraine blushed and covered the child's ears.

"This is not suited for a child!"

"Hey! I'm not a kid! I'm old enough to do what I want! No fair! Even Sealand won't tell me what it means so I thought I could find out if I came here!"

"It's a love / sexual relationship between two boys." Victoria dead-panned with a bored sigh.

"Oh. So it's a homo relationship?"

"Si."

"Oh." Vy's thick eyebrows (inherited from her British colonisers) knitted themselves together in a confused frown. "So … What's interesting about that?"

"Beats me." Victoria replied with a shrug.

"You kids are just too young to understand the beauty of Yaoi love!" Taiwan spoke with a wise expression she had imitated from China. The two British colonies stared at her with bored eyes before turning back to ignoring the Asian.  
"So why did you come, Victoria?"

"A little bird told me that there would be some talks concerning the competition."

"Oh! About England! I heard Aussie complain about it! He said England sent all his pets home and a massive bill with it. He was very pissed."

"No kidding. I got España all depressed and he nearly chopped my head off."

The room silenced as shocked expressions stared at the Spanish girl. She let out an amused giggle before explaining.  
"Mi Papa is quite bad at anger management. He got into a fit and while chopping off the trees in our garden he nearly chopped me."

"… Is he insane?! I never thought Spain to be like that!" Belgium shrieked in worry as she looked the tanned girl up and down to check any possible damage.

"No. He's just jealous. So he says."

"Jealous! Yes! That's perfect!" Hungary cheered happily, already dismissing the disturbing fact that Spain had nearly rendered his daughter headless.

"Today's meeting will revolve around the most wonderful event ever! The on-going competition between nations of the world and with its prize … England!" She explained and earned some cheers from a few girls but most only stared in confusion, not really knowing what to do.

"Brother will win!"

Everyone looked at the Belarusian as she glared darkly.

"Like hell! España is going to win! Because he has _me_ to help him!" Victoria smirked devilishly while challenging the silver haired girl. The tension between the two grew to the point where Hungary tried moving the conversation onto a more peaceful note.

"Well … I did give a hand to Prussia and it went pretty well … they were making out so I got lots of pictures!" Elisaveta exhibited proudly her photographs.

"Ooooh! Liz! Those are great! Amazing!" Taiwan giggled!

"Aaah! Don't look!" Ukraine shouted while covering the curious eyes of Vy.

"Why? I wanna see too!"

"Is this the kind of stuff you do in your free time, Taiwan?" The calm Vietnam asked while inspecting one of the pictures with a dubious face.

"Don't judge, Viet! You need to learn more about BoyLove before you can judge! That's why I brought you here! So you could learn!"

"But I don't want to …"

"Oh! Look at that one! Arthur completely owns Gilbert here!" Belle squealed while Seychelles looked over her shoulder with curiosity.

"Uh … I feel so bad for England right now." She sighed.

"Hey! Stop stalking my dad!" Victoria growled angrily as she snapped away the pictures not without glancing at each of them and smiling at a few. Yep. Her dad was hot! No doubt! "Besides, España will win so this is nothing compared to El Conquistador's passion!"

"I'd like to see that!"

"Well, I'm still surprised that England flat out rejected America. I mean, I was sure the two of them would end up together." Belgium sighed in disappointment but her cheery grin soon rushed back. "Then again … it would be fun if Arthur got together with say …"

"China! Or Japan!" Taiwan squealed excitedly.

"The Englishman is going to be with Brother and nobody else!"

"Natalya, why are you so determined about this?" Ukraine couldn't help be worried but surprised by her sister's devotion to pairing England with Russia. It's quite disturbing when you know that Belarus sees Russia as only hers normally. The silver haired girl glared darkly at her sister before answering.

"Because that bastard dared to reject Brother!"

"Really? This is news! So that's one more down!" Hungary squealed happily while checking her list of suitors on her notepad.

"His monster of a brother sent out a beast after Brother! I won't forgive them!" Belarus hissed darkly but soon fell mute as she remembered the night of Russia's confession. Wales was on her black list ever since and she had no problem in killing him. The problem lies with Northern Ireland. No matter what enemy Belarus had faced in the past, never had she felt such a fear as when faced with the eerie angry ginger girl. She was truly the devil!

"Natalya? What's wrong?" Katyusha gently stroked her sister's back as she noticed the girl's stun. Suddenly, Natalya brought her knees to her chest and folded herself into a ball as she rocked herself back and forth, crystal eyes wide in panic and muttering incomprehensibly in her breath. She sounded terrorised. And that sight was disturbing every other nation in the room. Who could possibly make Belarus crumble down like that?

"I hate that girl." The younger nation muttered but Katyusha clearly heard the fear in her voice. That's odd. Natalya is not one to easily get scared. What exactly had she seen to traumatise her so?

"Who are you talking about?"

Belarus didn't answer. Everyone's attention was focused on her and an anxious tensed silence stretched over the female nations.

Needless to say the sudden ringing of a phone made everyone jump and scream in panic.

"Ah! Sorry, that's mine!" Victoria apologised while answering her phone. The first word she spoke was enough to make Belarus scream in utter fear and panic and run to hide under Hungary's bed.

"Hello Aunt North? Uh? Hold on a sec …" Victoria and every other girl in the room stared at the fleeing Belarusian. Ukraine soon ran after her in panic.

Vicky turned to Elisaveta, lifting a questioning eyebrow.

"What's her deal?"

"No clue. Who's Aunt North?"

"Northern Ireland. I told her to come over."

Immediately, everyone in the room shivered and a few female nations thought maybe they'd want to follow Belarus' example. They all remembered all too well Northern Ireland's … attitude during the conference. And if the redhead girl were to get wind of what kind of activity was involved here: Stalking and taking pictures of Arthur, latest news on Arthur, selling pictures of Arthur to the guys (hey they need to make money somehow), betting on Arthur's final decision, …

She would not be happy.

Definitely not.

* * *

"Yeah, it's just around the corner! I'll meet you at the door!" Gibraltar chatted idly before running to answer to her approaching relative. It didn't take long for the bell to ring and a happy "Hola Aunt North!" to answer back. Elisaveta quickly hid away her pictures and any proof that might lead back to Arthur.

All eyes turned towards the young 18 year old looking woman and her fiery long hair flying around her like a curtain of fire. The girl grinned brightly at her female colleagues and dropped herself in a nearby seat, crossing her legs and arms resting on the armchair. She was dressed … well to be frank she looked like a gothic / punk styled teen. Her dark or black clothes, chains and spikes all over her neck, wrists, waist and ankles, her boots based with solid metal soles and black leather reaching up to her knees. Dark leggings and a crimson tartan skirt with chains all over it and skull buckle at her dark leather belt. Her top was a black sleeveless shirt and a red tie tied loosely around her neck despite the top buttons of her shirt undone and revealing part of her chest. A chocker hung at her neck with spikes and a medallion in the shape of a heart and displaying the Union Flag. In her hand she carried a leather jacket that looked worn out from years or maybe even decades of usage.

All in all, she looked nothing like she did in her meeting suit. With a Cheshirecat-like smile Fiona her golden coin distractedly in the air. A one faced coin that showed a crown on one side and nothing on the other. She knew her Irish annoying bastard of a brother to also have a similar coin. It's useful to just flip it distractedly. It keeps your mind busy and holds back the urge of murdering people. Mind you not for long.

"Sooooo … I heard you girls where having an update meeting on my brother's situation? And what situation might this be? I thought I heard something about a … _competition_?" Fiona growled that last word, her typical emerald eyes of the British Isles glowed dangerously.

"You do realise that your next words will decide whether I shall murder you today or let you live till tomorrow. As Arthur would say, speak wisely." She grinned darkly, already planning the various ways she was going to murder the present nations, a dark aura slowly grew around her body.

"Oh! You didn't know about it?" Victoria suddenly asked in realisation.

Immediately, Fiona's aura turned off and she turned a blank expression to her niece.

"Know what?"

"Well … I heard it from España. Apparently, the boys decided they would all try their chance at getting dad's heart. So it does sound like a competition but I think they are all really serious about it. No offense, but I'm rutting for Antonio."

Fiona took a few seconds to acknowledge the information and deciding whether it was worth wasting her bullets on. No. It's not.

She sighed heavily and shook her head in exasperation.

"Whaaaat? That's it? Booooring! And here I thought I'd find something more exciting! Alright I'm leaving! Enjoy your little yo … ya … yahoo-what-the-fuck-ever meeting! Vicky, come over more often, Arthur misses you!" The ginger Brit suddenly got up and headed for the door.

"Wait!"

She turned back and was faced with a determined yet confused Hungarian. Lifting an eyebrow, Fiona tilted her head cutely. When she wasn't murderous, she was adorable and really cute.

"What?"

"Is that all? I was sure you'd get angry, judging from your behaviour at the meeting …" Hungary was interrupted by finger on her lips.

"Are you trying to win over my brother?"

"Eh? No! Of course not! He's hot and all but not my type … besides, I want to see him with one of those guys in the end so …"

"Alright. So I have no reason to blow your head off. Unless you tell me that you're going to try date my Arthur, then I won't hurt you. Is that all you wished to ask?"

"Eh? Uh … yeah …" Elisaveta mumbled, slightly disorientated and confused by the other girl's reasoning.

"Then I'm off. I just wanted to check this competition thing. Oh and tell Belarus that I'm not going to kill her if she stops meddling with my brother. Really the poor dear looks terrorised … I wonder why." Fiona frowned slightly, unable to comprehend what she had done that could have caused Belarus to freak out on her like that. I mean, she just … sort of … and … yeah, ok that might have been a bit harsh but … and then … alright maybe she shouldn't have … but aside from that …

"Uh. Didn't think it would only take that to traumatise her. You know I got forced to attend bloody parliament for a whole fucking week because of that incident?" Fiona growled now half mumbling to herself.

They say the first sign to madness is talking to oneself. If that's true then the British Isles had all gone bonkers ages ago. Then again, people thought them crazy because they could see magical beings. It's all relative in the end.

"I don't get it."

Fiona snapped out of her own little world and glanced up at Elisaveta.

"What are you still on about?"

"I don't get it. Why are you and your brothers behaving like that? From what the rumours say, you guys never get along. And you fight all the time and hate each other. So why are you all being so stubborn and over-protective? And of England of all people?"

Fiona chuckled in delight. She had been wondering when people would start asking _that_ question.

"Oh well, it's simple really! Arthur, Scott, Connor and Patrick are my brothers. That's a fact. And those who have siblings should know this but a healthy sibling relationship never goes without a few fights. Granted we fight more than healthy but then, who said we had a healthy sibling relationship in the first place?" Fiona giggled maniacally and was starting to creep out her audience.

"I want Patrick dead. But I don't want anybody else but me to pull the trigger on his heart. So that means: Don't fuck with Ireland without my permission. Now as for the other three … Scotty and Conny are sweet and I care for them. So I'll kill you if you harm them. And finally, I'm in love with my brother Arthur."

The outright confession of the girl startled all the others and they could do nothing but stare in shock.

"B-But … he's your brother!" Seychelles whispered in a high-pitched breath. North shrugged as if it didn't bother her more than that.

"Aye and? You try living with him for decades and not fall in love with him! I'll give you a medal for it. Although ... Scotty called it more like an obsession but really it equals to the same thing, doesn't it?"

'No it doesn't!' everyone's mind kept screaming. Love and obsession is the difference between Ukraine with Matthew and Belarus with Russia!

"But in any case, the reason I don't like people hitting on Arty is mainly because I want him for myself. Selfish? Aye, I am. But then what else do I have if not my brothers? What else do we have? We're nations and so we cannot allow ourselves to trust other nations. Forget about relationships, just plain friendship is difficult. But that's why … my brothers and I are close. Very close and we will always remain as such. I'm not saying we have a healthy relationship … we don't. I love Arty and so do Patrick and Connor. So that's quite an issue in itself but then there's Scotty around so things go sort of well." Fiona let herself think for a few seconds before continuing in front of a downright bemused audience.

"We do hate each other and hold deep grudges. But I guess hate and love walk in pair, don't they? Our internal issues are ours to manage privately and we won't allow outsiders to meddle in and break the fragile links we try to maintain between us. So don't think you can come and fuck up our world just under some false pretense of 'love'. You don't even know what love is!"

Fiona slammed the door open and started to walk out. She motioned Victoria to follow and glanced down at Vy. The two colonies diligently followed after her. Fiona's emerald green eyes glared back inside as she spoke her last words.

"We saw ourselves get so fucked up to a point you would consider madness. So trade carefully. You wouldn't want to make us mad, would you? And for the notice: Arthur is the last person you want to make mad~!"

* * *

"What. The. Hell. Was. That.?!" Elisaveta finally spoke after an entire half hour had passed since Fiona left. All the girl quietly nodded and soon started to leave one after another.

"Mad … she did sound like that." The Hungarian shook her head but then thought back at her own past and her own life. Who was she to judge? After all, no nation in this world can remain sane for very long.

"Guess I'll go see how Gilbert and Ludwig are doing."

* * *

**AN: Thanks for the wait and sorry that's all I'm posting right now but this story got a bit left out as I was absorbed in the others (like _Your Precious Existence)_. I can guarantee that the next chapter will be about Northern Ireland. The way I picture her might be completely wrong and if someone from Northern Ireland wants to complain, they can but I tried to give her an overall British feel rather than specifically Irish because I think that's what distinguishes her from Republic of Ireland.**

**She's got an interesting personality and is really sweet normally but I like to think that she'd have a split personality that happened when she separated from Republic of Ireland and entered a troubled mental state. Her obsession over her brother would come from that time when he was trying to protect her. And she's quite fond of Scotland since a lot of Scots (yes and Welsh and English too but a lot less) moving to Northern Ireland (protestants) were kind of responsible for the separation of religion and now of country. So technically, Northern Ireland is a bit tricky. Plus she's the only girl in a family of fighting and rebellious male nations constantly at war (either with each other or with the rest of the world) so obviously she'd turn out with a messed up personality! Tough she does keep a seeming of innocence and childishness to her and she likes to get herself spoiled by her brothers.**

**Alright, now I think I'm rambling on too much. I'll update the next chapter faster than this one! I promise!**


	30. Chapter 26 - Britain's Princess

Northern Ireland

**Britain's Princess**

Fiona woke up to the exquisite smell of pancakes. Had Arthur made pancakes for breakfast today? The 18 year old looking girl jumped out of her bed, her bright ginger hair in a wild mess as they fell down to her waist. Only dressed in her pyjamas, she rushed down the stairs and to the delicious smelling kitchen.

"What's _he_ doing here?!"

All four men looked up at the angry pouting girl glaring at the cook. France only rolled his eyes and returned to making his crepes (and not pancakes like Fiona first thought). Scotland shrugged while Wales (after only returning early this morning) returned to half-falling asleep at the table while waiting for breakfast. England motioned his sister to join them, as he put down his newspaper.

"He's making us breakfast." The blond answered as if it were an obvious fact.

"Why?"

"Because he stayed the night."

"WHAT?!"

North's panic expression hardly surprised Arthur. He patted her shoulder calmingly.

"On the couch." He added with a sharp smile that instantly calmed the girl down. For a second, Fiona thought the frog had forced himself on her dear brother! Nobody is allowed to lay hands on _her_ _brother_!

"Here you go Little Master." Francis laid down a plate in front of Arthur before glancing at Connor. "Should I wake him up?"

"Just leave the plate next to him. He'll wake up eventually." Alistair groaned as he took his own plate. He didn't look in a good mood …

Fiona noticed the packet of aspirins on the counter and that neither Alistair nor Francis were acting like their usual self. They were much too quiet.

"Hangover?" she asked with a whisper in Arthur's ear. The blond nodded with a cheeky smile.

Smiles are contagious. And soon, Fiona found herself grinning broadly, her eyes teasing gently the two men. An annoyed glare from Scotland did nothing more than increase her good mood. She dropped herself on Arthur's lap and started to eat breakfast … from his plate. Francis watched with irritation but said nothing. How could he? Northern Ireland is like the spoiled Princess of Great Britain. Neither Wales nor Scotland found this bothersome or out of the ordinary. England hardly showed any sign of exasperation or annoyance which obviously means that he's used to such behaviour from his younger sister. The British siblings all started to eat in a comfortable silence with Fiona suffering the death glares of the French cook.

"Artyyyyy?" Fiona whined while wrapping her arms around her brother's neck, a crooked smile aimed at the French. She just loved to piss off her brother's suitors. And she _will_ make sure that none of them get anywhere near Arthur!

"What is it?" Arthur barely looked up from his newspaper, tea mug in hand. He felt Fiona's fingers twirl and play with his golden locks but it didn't bother him.

"Come shopping with me!"

"No."  
"Aw! Why not?"

"Because last time, you ended up dragging me to a suit tailor."

"And what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing aside that you wanted me to get a new suit just to match that new bracelet you had bought. Thanks to you I have countless suits that I won't ever wear in my wardrobe. So no."

"But I promise I won't make you match me this time! Please! Please! Pretty please!"

After an entire morning of pleading, Arthur submitted to his sister's wish. What choice did he have? Whatever North wants she will always get. Scotland and Wales were all to delighted not to have been chosen to follow North around and serve her as a luggage holder. Great … his quiet day off is starting to sound more tiring than a normal day's work. Arthur sighed heavily but upon seeing the delighted cheerful smile of his sister, a warm feeling spread in his body. She was adorable. Truly. And just to keep that cute smile on her face, Arthur would go to the world's end if so was her wish.

* * *

"Arty, what about this one?"

"Lovely."

"Arthur! You're not even looking! Be more serious! Shopping is serious business!"

"Yes, yes, whatever you say, love."

Fiona pouted at the dismissive attitude of her older sibling. Arthur already had five bags in his arms and this was only the third shop they were at. You could say Fiona knows how to be a girl when she wants to. Arthur sighed as he played on his mobile to pass time while his sister went rampaging and pillaging the shop. He was really only needed for the bills and holding the bags. But that's fine. He doesn't mind and it always amuses him to see his sister act so feminine from time to time. It's better than see her go murderous over nothing. He didn't want his little sister to have to suffer a cold life of lies and treacherous politics. He'd manage that for her so that she can enjoy being alive and so he could keep seeing her smile. This brotherly behaviour doesn't just apply to Arthur. All of the British brothers care deeply for their one and only sister and wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy herself. Because they were all boys, they didn't offer much a feminine touch to Fiona's environment and that always troubled them. So when Fiona indulges herself in her female side, then you'd get a guarantee that neither of her brothers would interfere and instead would encourage it. Pity she doesn't manage to make herself many female nation friends.

"Arty! Look! Look! How's that?" Fiona popped out of the changing cabin in slick black leather trousers with on one leg part of the red and white crosses of the Union flag in a stylish design. A deep blue top that uncovered her arms and shoulders and held the words: _Keep Calm_ in the front and the words: _And Welcome to Hell!_

Arthur stared blankly for a minute before nodding.

"Lovely."

"Don't you have any other kind of compliment?" Fiona rolled her eyes but she smiled all the same.

And that was another two bags out of the shop. Where to next?

* * *

"Shifu! Stop complaining!"

"Daze! You look amazing Shifu!"

"Both of you are insane! Hong! How is this necessary and why did you bring this idiot along!"

"I didn't. He just followed you. Blame yourself."

Yao cursed as he was being forcefully dragged across London and its many shops, thrown into clothes (some of which obviously designed for girls only) and forced into buying himself an entire new clothes collection for the next few decades! And Korea had to come along! As if Hong Kong acting weird wasn't enough! Dragging him on a plane to London without telling him! China was furious at his son to say the least. And now, here he was getting geared up into some gothic style chic! Why did they favour female clothes for him! This is ridiculous!

The doorbell of the shop rang and a familiar Spanish accent reached Yao's ear. God no! He would die if one of the other nations saw him in such a state! Fearfully, China turned his head around, ignoring the swishing of his now pair of pigtails and his golden eyes widened upon meeting the olive ones of Spain. Following the Spaniard was a beautiful tanned girl that looked a lot like the Spanish nation if not for her distinctive emerald eyes that Yao knew all so well.

Victoria and Leon stared at one another for a minute before the girl clicked her tongue in annoyance, a dark smirk forming on her lips. Hong's face turned cold (-er) and his eyes narrowed dangerously on the Spanish girl.

"Little Leo! How have you been?" The girl started the chitchat as if nothing was wrong while she browsed through some clothes (mainly she looked for some really tight shirts and hot leather trousers that would show off Antonio's hot body – obviously not a personal choice of the Spaniard).

"Splendid. Until you showed up, Vic." Hong Kong returned to scrutinizing China's looks. Maybe a little too feminine.

Leon's eyes turned to Korea and he motioned him to bring up the next set for Yao to try on: A punk style of dark ripped jeans with a crown crest on one of the back pockets, and a crimson tight shirt with a black dragon design curling around the torso of the said shirt, the sleeves ripped off and the collar held up. Added to that a pair of black sneakers, a golden chain around the neck and many metal bracelets, Yao's hair was let loose and Leon even thought of colouring the tip of them in dark red.

"Well, I couldn't really let Stupid Spain show up at Dad's place looking like an idiot, now could I? I'm surprised you changed your mind. I think the chica look really suits your mom!" Victoria smirked darkly as he pulled out the clothes she had selected for Spain and threw her Spanish parent into a changing room.

Spain came out wearing a black leather pair of trousers with silver chains hanging from the waist along with a thick leather belt holding a buckle in the shape of a pirate skull. His dark purple shirt emphasised well on the toned muscles of his upper body and had an elegant lining of golden threads on the collar and down the buttons. He too had a golden chain but it held a golden cross that was loosely revealed from the too many undone button of the top of the shirt. Victoria was debating whether she was going to add him a leather jacket or not but her attention was stolen by Leon's sharp reply.

"It's of course easier when your model can actually fit in anything without looking like a grinning idiot with no brain. I almost feel sorry for you."

"Oh? But at least Spain can smile! I haven't seen China show one ounce of a smile yet? Is frowning and cold faces considered a smile in Asia?"

"Getting aggressive and angry all the time isn't the best of ways to woo someone either. Or is that the best you can do in the Mediterranean?"

"Watch your tongue, boy …" Victoria hissed, her anger level slowly rising.

"Or what?" Leon smirked and the darkness of his expression scared China and Korea. While Spain was simply worried his daughter might seriously lose control.

Luckily none of that happened as the shop's doorbell rang once more and a very chatty British couple walked in. Two pairs of identical emerald eyes fell on the familiar faces in the shop and the man sighed heavily if not exasperatedly. This really wasn't his best resting day, was it?

"Arty? Why did you invite over your exes?" Fiona blurted out, more surprise than actually angry.

"I didn't. And I have no idea why they're having a fashion show in one of my shops. Can we please go home now? I'm sure that's enough clothes for you to last another century!"

"But it's my favourite shop! I kept the best for last! And you promised!"

"Aye, aye, I promised." Arthur rolled his eyes, barely managing under the pile of shopping bags and packages that he was holding. It didn't help to have Leon and Victoria seemingly about to have a fight and break down one of his shops. Was there a universal rule that stated you cannot catch a break during your own weekend time? Because Arthur feels he should have opted for an extra day of paperwork seeing how it might have been more helpful.

"Dad! What are you doing here?" Gibraltar quickly turned a bright smile to her blond father.

"I live here. You know, me being England and London being my capital?" Arthur snapped back sarcastically and earned himself a chuckle from his daughter while North had run off hunting for clothes.

"More to the point, what are you all doing here? Did you bring Portugal too?"

"Yes I did but … I think we got separated somewhere."

"Leon, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Honestly, can either of you tell me what you think you're doing?"

"Shopping!" Both colonies answered with a complicit grin that only exasperated England further. He rolled his eyes and finally took in China and Spain's appearance. A soft blush brightened his cheeks and he tried avoiding looking at either nations, feeling on him heavily stares from both his ex.

Although they had no reason to actually stare, in Arthur's opinion. He just threw on casual clothes for a day out being Fiona's bag carrier. Arthur wore dark elegant jeans and leather boots reaching only to above his ankles yet with tight straps and metal ornaments hanging from both the shoes and his waist. He wore a long sleeved black V-shirt and over it a sleeveless dark blue shirt, collar up and with its edges slightly torn and the silver head of a roaring lion on his back. At his wrists, multiple chains, bracelets and leather straps hung and a black old-style cap hat was tilted on his golden head with a couple of pins in it: one a ramping red lion, the other a silver unicorn. Added to it all a black tie hanging loose around his neck. Nothing major really but somehow Antonio and Yao couldn't stop staring, not realising that they themselves were causing Arthur unable to look at them.

Amazing what nice clothing can do!

* * *

"ARTHUR!" Fiona's panicked voice immediately snapped Arthur into action. He dropped his bags and rushed to the back of the shop and growled in rage at the sight.

Fiona (distracted by the clothes) had been attacked by some thugs who were currently trying to slip her away by the back door. Fiona was unconscious and Arthur noticed a tissue in one of the man's hands and he could guess they had drugged his sister using Chloroform. But what those three thugs didn't realise was they had picked the worse person to kidnap. And they soon will understand their mistake.

Arthur stormed at them, green eyes glowing and barely holding back his murderous need for blood and pain. Arthur's mind slowly but surely was blanking out and he just thought it wise to speed-dial on his phone before his rationality left his mind. And hell broke loose.

Antonio, Yao, Yong Soo, Leon and Victoria all rushed after Arthur, all felt uneasy by the furious murderous expression Arthur's face had shown. But once they reached the Britons out in the back street behind the shop, three corpses laid dead, blood dripping down and colouring the pavement, a truck nearby had been smashed to pieces like a wild animal had ripped it apart (despite it being made of metal) and then suffered an explosion and was now slowly burning up in a not very natural fire that showed taints of blue in the red and orange flames. Fiona laid unconscious as her brother carried her bridal style, his hand covered in blood and his face hidden in the shadow of his golden bangs but they could all hear his erratic breathing.

Arthur is not one to lose control easily. At all. Especially on his own people and other normal humans. But he just did. And now the police were heard on their way. The remaining nations could only stare as they saw a black Aston Martin charge into the alley, full speed and hissed into a brake, inches away from Arthur. Scotland and Wales jumped out of the car, panic on their faces as neither took notice of the carnage around them, their attention solely focused on the limp body of the ginger haired girl.

"What happened?"

"Bastards thought they could kidnap her." Arthur's voice sounded like a low growl of a wild animal and for a brief second Yao and Antonio spotted his green eyes glowing … glowing?

Wales finally took a look around then looked down at his brother and sighed.

"You both go on ahead. I'll clear up."

"Aye." Both Arthur and Alistair answered in synch, not really paying any attention to the world around them anymore as they drove off in the black car. The first thing Connor did was turn his attention to the group of witness. He couldn't have that. No witnesses could be allowed. Ever.

He snapped his fingers, his emerald eyes glowing just like Arthur's had earlier.

All fell to darkness.

* * *

"Shifu! Stop complaining!"

"Daze! You look amazing Shifu!"

"Both of you are insane! Hong! How is this necessary and why did you bring this idiot along!"

"I didn't. He just followed you. Blame yourself."

Yao cursed as he was being forcefully dragged across London and its many shops, thrown into clothes (some of which obviously designed for girls only) and forced into buying himself an entire new clothes collection for the next few decades! And Korea had to come along! As if Hong Kong acting weird wasn't enough! Dragging him on a plane to London without telling him! China was furious at his son to say the least. And now, here he was getting geared up into some gothic style chic! Why did they favour female clothes for him! This is ridiculous!

The doorbell of the shop rang and a familiar Spanish accent reached Yao's ear. God no! He would die if one of the other nations saw him in such a state! Fearfully, China turned his head around, ignoring the swishing of his now pair of pigtails and his golden eyes widened upon meeting the olive ones of Spain. Following the Spaniard was a beautiful tanned girl that looked a lot like the Spanish nation if not for her distinctive emerald eyes that Yao knew all so well.

Victoria and Leon stared at one another for a minute before the girl clicked her tongue in annoyance, a dark smirk forming on her lips. Hong's face turned cold (-er) and his eyes narrowed dangerously on the Spanish girl.

"Little Leo! How have you been?" The girl started the chitchat as if nothing was wrong while she browsed through some clothes (mainly she looked for some really tight shirts and hot leather trousers that would show off Antonio's hot body – obviously not a personal choice of the Spaniard).

"Splendid. Until you showed up, Vic." Hong Kong returned to scrutinizing China's looks. Maybe a little too feminine.

Leon's eyes turned to Korea and he motioned him to bring up the next set for Yao to try on: A punk style of dark ripped jeans with a crown crest on one of the back pockets, and a crimson tight shirt with a black dragon design curling around the torso of the said shirt, the sleeves ripped off and the collar held up. Added to that a pair of black sneakers, a golden chain around the neck and many metal bracelets, Yao's hair was let loose and Leon even thought of colouring the tip of them in dark red.

"Well, I couldn't really let Stupid Spain show up at Dad's place looking like an idiot, now could I? I'm surprised you changed your mind. I think the chica look really suits your mom!" Victoria smirked darkly as he pulled out the clothes she had selected for Spain and threw her Spanish parent into a changing room.

Spain came out wearing a black leather pair of trousers with silver chains hanging from the waist along with a thick leather belt holding a buckle in the shape of a pirate skull. His dark purple shirt emphasised well on the toned muscles of his upper body and had an elegant lining of golden threads on the collar and down the buttons. He too had a golden chain but it held a golden cross that was loosely revealed from the too many undone button of the top of the shirt. Victoria was debating whether she was going to add him a leather jacket or not but her attention was stolen by Leon's sharp reply.

"It's of course easier when your model can actually fit in anything without looking like a grinning idiot with no brain. I almost feel sorry for you."

"Oh? But at least Spain can smile! I haven't seen China show one ounce of a smile yet? Is frowning and cold faces considered a smile in Asia?"

"Getting aggressive and angry all the time isn't the best of ways to woo someone either. Or is that the best you can do in the Mediterranean?"

"Watch your tongue, boy …" Victoria hissed, her anger level slowly rising.

"Or what?" Leon smirked and the darkness of his expression scared China and Korea. While Spain was simply worried his daughter might seriously lose control.

Suddenly, all the nations present felt an odd feeling of déjà vu and they instinctively turned to the shop's front door, expecting it for some reason to open.

It never did.

* * *

In the back street behind the shop, the cops were bemused to find an old burnt down truck.

No traces other than the remains of the metal junk had survived. The driver – or drivers – were nowhere to be found. In fact, not a single body was in sight. And not a drop of blood tainted the dark boring pavement.

Nothing had happened.

* * *

Arthur breathed heavily, his mind slowly turning back into gear and his adrenaline rush settled down. He looked down at his blood covered hands, his blood stained clothes and his unconscious sister in his arms. His eyes darted to the driver where he met the cold concerned expression of Alistair, the Scotsman so very focused on keeping his eyes on the road.

"Sorry." Arthur mumbled.

"For what?" The older Briton shrugged, not removing his green gaze from the road.

"I shouldn't have snapped like that."

"I would have. Since I would have, I have no right to scold you. Especially since Princess is safe, I consider you did nothing wrong."

"Still … I shouldn't have killed them." Arthur already felt the self-harming pain of having killed three of his own citizens. It's worse than when someone else kills them. This time, he felt like he had stabbed himself in the heart three times.

"Rather than apologising to me, you should try not to guilt your conscious too much. We slip. It happens. Hell, I've killed some of my men more than once."

"I know. But I should have … It would have been so easy to just knock them down, call the cops and erase memories."

"… Wrong. It would have been wiser but clearly, this was not the '_easier'_ option you had. If it were, you'd have done it. I think this would have been the hardest option. After all …" Alistair's expression darkened threateningly and he finally turned to look into his brother's eyes before his gaze fell on Fiona's sleeping face. "What's _easy_ in not killing bastards attacking your family?"

Arthur never answered and simply smiled sadly, his hand gently caressing his sister's hair. She mumbled in her sleep, her arms wrapping around her brother's neck as she buried her nose in his chest.

"… Love you … Love you … Arty … … and Scotty … and Conny … Love you …"

"Aye, love. And we love you too, Princess." Arthur whispered back and kissed his sister's forehead fondly as Scott parked the car and they finally arrived back home. One simple advice to remember: Britain holds very close at heart the well-being of Northern Ireland. Their only sister. Not one of the three brothers of Great Britain would not go wild if the life of their sister was at risk. Not one.

* * *

**AN: I was meant to do a bit more a relationship between Fiona and Arthur and I tried but ... Yeah, I really can't imagine more than just a fond brother/sister relationship for them. So ... Sorry for those who wanted to see a love interaction between them but it seems my mind passed out mid-way and turned back one with a new twist. Hope you still liked it! I wanted to show Northern Ireland's importance in the Kirkland household: She is their only sister and she's the youngest. Makes sense that her brothers would all be extremely protective and doting on her.**

**For those who didn't know: _Great Britain_ is a geographic notions that refers to the largest of the two British Isles: Thus it contains England, Wales and Scotland. The other island is called ... the island of Ireland, I guess? Or just Ireland. And it holds the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland. So, when I say _Great Britain_ in the last part of this chapter: I refer to England, Wales and Scotland. Northern Ireland is not part of Great Britain. That's why it's called: The United Kingdom of Great Britain _and_ Northern Ireland. Just a notion I wanted to make clear.**

**And that's why the title is called: Britain's Princess!**


	31. Chapter 31 - Sweet Tooth and Fairy Dust

Romania and Norway (Because I'm lazy, I'm combining both!)

**Sweet Tooth and Fairy Dust**

* * *

**AN: So, I'm thinking I might combine some nations into one single chapters because this is taking way too long! So here, think of it as an attempt to a threesome with the Magic Trio. Attempt because obviously ... well, read and you'll understand what I meant. I'm sorry this story is going slowly but it's hard for me to get new ideas. At least, I have a fixed idea on the ending now! But I won't tell you~!**

**Thank you to those following this story and for all your kind reviews! I love reviews! Thank you!**

* * *

Arthur finally got to let his head hit his pillow … God, what a tiring day! And to think this was meant to be a nice and quiet weekend! Well, so much for that! The blond was nearly about to fall asleep when he heard the loud argument between … probably a very drunk Ireland and a very drunk Wales … and that sounds like Scotland … … oh, this is definitely Scotland telling them to shut up. Pity it only made things worse. But then, what can you expect? Even Ireland is extremely protective of Princess after all. He didn't appreciate the notice that she had almost been kidnapped. Obviously she could have sorted herself out on her own but … yeah, it's just the thought of it really pissed off Arthur and his brothers.

Arthur smiled softly as he felt the smaller body of his sister snuggling to him in bed. Occasionally, he would let North sleep with him when she gets nightmares or bad experiences. Consider today's event as a bad experience (though for Fiona it really is just an excuse to sleep in the same bed as her brother really – Spoiled much?)

A loud crashing sound was heard and Arthur covered his sister's ears with his hands. Scotland was now yelling angrily and Ireland and Wales had gone up from arguing to fighting. Bloody great. At 1 am in the morning?! Bloody noisy bastards!

"God … I can't even rest in my own fucking house, can I?!" Arthur cursed as he tried to cancel the noise by burying his head under his pillows and covers. Thanks to that … and to the loud shouting downstairs, Arthur barely heard the clicking of his window being forced open. Barely. Barely, but he did hear it. Now, Arthur had many guesses as to _who_ the bloody fuck would dare to come and wake him up in the middle of the night and risk his wrath. But they mostly involved his siblings which all of them are currently debating downstairs on … what was that? Sheep? Uh … ah, no now they switched to how many dragons each slayed … how did they end up arguing about that?! We'll be there all fucking night if this goes on!

Nevertheless, counting his siblings out and they're magical friends (and Arthur had been quite clear the last time the faeries interrupted his sleep so he didn't think they would dare try this again) … What did that leave? Did he know any nations that would randomly show up for a nightly visit through his window? At 1 am in the morning? On the third floor (second if you don't count ground floor)? Maybe France or America? No, those two have been quiet since recently. Then who?

Whoever it is … Arthur is definitely going to give them a piece of his mind. And right now, his mind is like a time bomb just begging for an excuse to explode. The blond man gently stroke his sister's bright ginger hair while whispering a cancelling noise spell on her so that she wouldn't hear a thing and thus wouldn't wake up. He forcefully manage to free himself from her tight grip around his waist and by the time he got out of bed, dressed only his black pyjama trousers (the top he had covered North with so she wouldn't catch cold) Arthur felt a heavy presence in his bedroom. Heavy … but a familiar presence. It didn't take long for the blond to identify the other.

"Vlad? You better have a goddamn good bloody reason for interrupting me in my sleep! And you better speak it soon before I rip your head off and dig a stick through your heart!" Arthur growled, his eyes glowing dangerously but before he could use any magic, he heard his friend laugh and a shadow walked into the moonlight rays.

A tall pale Romanian with blazing red eyes and peach blond hair under a small top hat, dressed entirely in black and smirking a toothy grin with sharp fangs, walked out of the dark corners of the room. Arthur lifted a questioning eyebrow at his friend.

Oh yeah. He forgot Romania. He definitely would come for a nightly visit through his window. At 1 am. On the third floor. Definitely.

"_Why_ are you here?" The Briton sighed heavily as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Vladimir's smirk only widened further.

"Sorry for interrupting your beauty sleep! Although, if you asked me, I don't think you'd need it much."

"Sleep?"

"No, beauty. I'm not even sure it's possible to increase yours."

"… I'm going back to bed and _you_ are leaving. If you only woke me up to ramble your usual nonsense, then please do it during day, like normal people!" Arthur rolled his eyes as he headed back for his bed. He never reached it as he felt a cold hand land on his shoulder and slowly snaking around his neck. Lips whispered to his ear, teeth grazing down at his jugular. Arthur distinctively recognised the sweet scent of Romania, sweet but Arthur could never quite pinpoint what exactly the smell was.

"Why so rash? And I came all the way here to see you!"

"Well, you saw me! Well done! Now bye bye!" Arthur hissed in irritation, hardly bothered by the clawing of the hands around his bare chest and the teasing of the fangs on his neck. For one, he was used to Romania acting all touchy feeling. Although really polite in general, Romania could be quite teasing and in many aspect like Italy with his close friends. Add to this the fact that the Romanian enjoyed pretending to be a vampire. He's not one. Of course not! Vampires don't actually look good. They're not all sparkly like in America's Twilight thingy, and are actually terrifying creatures. Vlad may look like a glamour vampire but he is definitely human … well, nation. So Arthur didn't really fear much from the fake-vamp. It's just really funny to freak out other nations though.

"Aw! But I wanted us to have fun!" Vladimir started to pout, red eyes looking pleadingly at the scolding emeralds.

"I'm tired, Vlad! Can we please do whatever it is you want to do another time? I'm really not having the best of times right now."

"… Hey, is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"… That you're looking for a date?"

"THE FUCK SAID THAT?!" Arthur yelled furiously before suddenly covering his mouth and glancing at his door. Good thing his brothers are as loud (if not louder) as he is or they would have charged through this door in mere seconds. Romania's hysterical chuckle was not helping either!

"_Who_ in the world told you that?!" Arthur hissed, levelling down his voice.

"Well … I hear rumours. But mostly I just went over and spied on Hungary. They recently had that Yaoi meeting thing … actually North was at it."

"Eh? Really? Why would she …?" Arthur glanced at the sleeping girl in his bed, frowning in question.

"Well, she seemed angry at first but then things went a bit … you could say she got bored and left?"

Romania frowned as he reminded himself of Fiona's reaction. He never quite understood how the British Isles operated. He had expected the Irish girl to get angry and trash the place but she simply left as if nothing was wrong. It's quite impossible to understand their logic. Then again … the red eyes narrowed on the pondering blond Englishman. Arthur isn't easy to follow either.

"Alright, so aside from stalking my sister, what where you doing showing up at my house in the middle of the night?" Arthur's glare returned on the vampiric nation, intensified. Romania shrugged, his arms still wrapped around Arthur's shoulder and his fingers trailing gently down the toned muscles of his chest and arms.

"I wanted to verify the rumours."

"At 1 am?"

"Is there a problem?" Vlad tilted his head, grinning innocently as Arthur face-palmed in exasperation.

"_Is there a problem_? Yes, there's a bloody problem! I'm sleeping! _Was_ sleeping! Until _you_ showed up!" The Brit held back his need to yell, not wanting to risk his brothers to hear him. Although tired and pissed, he didn't want his siblings to murder one of his close friends. And sadly, Romania was part of his close friends. Why is he friends with the idiot again?

Said idiot kept chuckling I amusement, his roaming hands becoming slightly more … insistent. Arthur shot his friend a deadly glare but the Romanian's toothy grin only widened more. Licking his lips, the vampire-looking blond was about to speak when both nations heard another voice coming from the open window.

"Looks like I'm too late."

* * *

They both snapped their heads to the sitting figure in the window ledge. Arthur's eyes brightened up when he recognised Norway. He was wearing a dark blue cloak over his plain white shirt and jeans. An upside down cross hung from his neck, similar to the one pining his platinum blond hair back. Norway's expression was as calm and emotionless as usual although his indigo eyes narrowed in irritation at the clinging Romanian onto his British friend.

Oh yes, Norway could also be one to show up for no reason in the middle of the night through his window. At 1 am. On the third floor. By that point, Arthur started to question his judgement in choosing his friends. He sighed, glanced at his door as he heard his brothers slamming their own doors and the house falling silent. Apparently, the argument/fight was over and now they were all sulking. Great. Sounds like a promising morning family time tomorrow … well later today, since it is early morning already. His cat-like green eyes returned to nest on the Nordic and he lifted a questioning eyebrow.

"Lukas, no offense but what are _you_ doing here too? I can understand _that idiot_ (points at the scowling Romania) breaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night but I honestly thought you'd have enough common sense to visit me during the day, when I'm not attempting to sleep!" Arthur's sarcasm brought a smile on the cold Norwegian's face.

"I noticed Romania was acting weird recently and I put my fairies on his track, in case he did anything stupid again …"

"Oi! I never do anything stupid!" The vampire complained but the other two ignored him.

"My fairies warned me that he was breaking into your house so I came to stop him. Looks like I'm late. Sorry."

Arthur smiled softly at his friend, causing Lukas' frozen pale face to dust itself of a soft pink and his indigo eyes widened slightly. Romania pouted as he saw Lukas earning all the attention to himself. He wrapped his arms tighter around Arthur's shoulders, Norway glared in slight irritation while Arthur tried to think of a way to get rid of his friends.

"Alright, so now that everything is sorted, can you both please leave?"

"You heard him, Vladimir."

"I don't see you leaving, Ice-man."

The two magicians glared at one another. Usually Arthur doesn't bother interfering in their constant bickering. But he felt this time it was more serious than usual. Romania's grip around him felt a little bit too possessive and Lukas' expression showed a little bit too much emotion (anger) for someone like him. And although Arthur always had a feeling concerning Romania, he didn't really think Norway would also see him as more-than-a-friend. Oh bloody great …

"Guys, I'm serious. I'm not in the mood and frankly, if you're trying to seduce me, you are all failing miserably. But since you're here …" Arthur suddenly smirked as an idea sparked in his mind.

His eyes glowed and the window shut close on its own, clicking the lock. Both intruding nations looked in surprise as Arthur had locked them up with him in his room. A thought crossed their minds and both felt a warm blush cover their cheeks. Arthur pulled himself out of Vlad's grip and went to check on his sister once more. He lifted emerald malicious eyes to the waiting two and his smirk confirmed that this was not going to turn out as a threesome. Too bad. They might have been willing to share …

"Since you both are acting as weird as everyone else in the world. You are going to tell me exactly what is going on and why I'm suddenly getting random nations trying to get me in their beds." Arthur took a seat and crossed his arms as he watched his two friends glance at each other.

Vladimir grinned widely, sharp fangs flashing in the dim light, and he strolled elegantly towards his English friend. He slowly walked around Arthur's chair and leaned down over his shoulder, pressing his sharp teeth close to Arthur's earlobe. He barely refrained from nibbling at it and whispered in a dark purr.

"You'd be surprised at how long people have tried to get you in their beds. The only reason things are turning out so …"

"Out of control." Lukas filled in Vlad's sentence.

He wasn't moving from his spot in front of Arthur, standing straight and upright like a stick, his indigo eyes locked on the English blonde's face, their eyes meeting and Arthur felt uncomfortable in seeing so much emotion in Norway's blue eyes. Vladimir blew sensually in his ear, making Arthur jump and glare at his chuckling friend. As he turned back to Lukas, Arthur nearly had a heart-attack when he was faced inches away from Lukas' face. Not only that, but the ice mask of the Nordic had fallen and a desire painted the man's face as he licked his lips and leaned ever so closer. Arthur forced himself to breathe deeply, still mindful not to make too much noise.

"Yeah, the only reason it got so out of hand is because your brother showed up." Vlad's lips moved downwards and he started nipping on the ceramic soft flesh of Arthur's neck and down towards his collarbone. Arthur frowned when he felt the vampire bite a bit too hard and blood seeped out.

"My brother …? I don't get it." Arthur's calm voice showed nothing of his discomfort and his flustered face was growing redder by the seconds.

"It's not easy having someone suddenly show up and telling us that we can't have you … ever …" Lukas answered and his voice was not cold anymore but vibrant in lust. He was slowly kissing his way down Arthur's chest, his hands holding down Arthur's arms as to prevent him from stopping him.

"W-what? What are you both on about?"

"It's so frustrating … seeing you all-smiles for him … whatever he says or does, you always take his side … it's frustrating …" Lukas licked at one of Arthur's nipple, smirking at the gasp he heard in response and the angry hiss following it.

"C-can you both … just … stop! Before I get seriously angry!" Arthur hissed darkly but he felt his voice drown in the shivers of pleasure he felt. Damn it … he hated the fact that his friends knew exactly how to pleasure him … of course had slept with each of them before but mostly when he was lonely and drunk. He couldn't even remember it much. How come they seemed to know everything about him?!

"Hm? But you're enjoying it~!" Romania smirked as he sucked on Arthur's collarbone and his hands reached down at his prey's pyjama bottoms.

"That's beside the point! L-Lukas! Stop!" Arthur suddenly felt the Nordic's hand slip under his pyjama trousers and he jumped at the cold touch of the hand against his warm skin.

"It could be easier if you stopped pretending like you don't enjoy this …" Sadness rang in Norway's voice and he stopped his hand for a moment, giving his friend time to relax and regain his composure.

"I-I'm not … Damn it! I don't want to fuck tonight! Don't you both get that?!"

"… So, you'd fuck another night?" Vlad tilted his head, wide grin, and suddenly interested.

"No! That's not what I meant! Bloody … Fuck! I want to know why everyone is trying to fuck with me?! More so than usual!" Arthur didn't realise he was yelling.

"… … It's not just a quick fuck Arthur." Lukas looked sincerely sad and guilty. His intention clearly failed to come across to his fuming friend.

"Then what is it, Lukas?! What the bloody hell is going on?! And what does my brother have to do with it all?! Which brother anyway?"

Romania groaned in irritation and nuzzled his face into Arthur's neck, like a puppy seeking affection. Lukas only sighed and removed his hand from Arthur's lower body parts. Instead he moved to sit himself on the confused Englishman's lap and leaned in against his warm bare chest. Lukas and Vlad both wished they could simply tell Arthur … make him understand … they had both even considered a love potion but could never bring themselves to betray their friend's trust.

"Why did you bring Scotland with you at the last meeting?" Lukas sighed and shot a scolding glare at the wide confused emeralds. What the hell? So it's his fault now?!

"What does Scott have to do with all this?!"

"He's the trigger." Vlad whispered softly in Arthur's neck, half-listening and half-enjoying the feeling of Arthur's skin.

"The trigger …?"

"You have no idea, do you? How much people would give to be called your lover … how much I would give …" The Nordic whispered and tilted his head up, pressing his lips against the half-open ones of Arthur. Lukas used his chance to slip his tongue in and wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck. Vlad whined and glared as he got pushed away. Arthur simply froze, then his mind seemed to click and he forced Lukas away, both fell off the chair, with Arthur pinning his friend by the wrist onto the floor. Lukas' eyes widen but not in fear. He could feel himself grow hot in lust at the suggestive position he and his friend were in.

"What are you saying about my brother?" Arthur breathed out angrily. Lukas' face turned to irritation and a deep frown creased his forehead.

"That's exactly what he meant." Vlad answered, oddly calm, his red eyes watching Arthur turn to him questioningly.

"Explain." The order rang cold in the electrified tension of the air around them.

"Did you not listen? Don't you understand just how intoxicating you are? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch you be so honest and open with someone else? I more than once considered forcing a love potion on you. I seriously did." Vladimir's eyes looked away sheepishly as he felt Arthur charge at him, furious, and grab him by the collar before pinning him to the wall. His breath hitched as he saw how close Arthur's angry face was to his.

"I'm talking about my brother! What were you saying about my brother?!" Arthur's mind was slowly blanking out and if he didn't get an answer soon, he wasn't sure what he might end up causing. All he wanted to know was how his brother was involved in all this! He wanted to understand whether or not he should feel concerned for his sibling. Because he was. He seriously was growing furious at how people seemed to avoid explaining about his brother. Romania's look turned dull and he barely held back the dark anger raging him.

"That's exactly what I mean. You've only got his name on your lips. There's no room for anyone else, is there?"

Arthur blinked at the cold accusing tone of his friend.

"What …?"

"I keep telling you and you still can't seem to hear me! I've said it so many times, showed you so many times, and you still only heard one word only: Scotland. And if it's not Scotland, it'll be Wales, or Ireland! Or your sister! Arthur, your brother is too much of a presence in your heart that it blocks out anyone else who tries to get in!"

"In my heart …? But what are you …"

"I love you! God, how many times will I have to say it! Even Lukas just told you a minute ago!" Romania shouted in frustration. Arthur's eyes turned hesitantly back to the Nordic. Lukas was sitting still on the floor with a pained expression as he sharply nodded. Arthur's shaking hand slowly let go of his friend and he dropped to the floor on his knees.

"But … I don't get it … why is my brother … the trigger? The trigger of what?"

"He's your trigger, Arthur! He's the only reason everyone started racing for you! Because he showed up, we all felt threatened! And with good reason! Do you have any idea how relaxed and genuine you are around him?! You're never like that with us! Never! And you lose all self-control whenever something involves your brother! Even just now, we kept telling you, showing you, how much we love you and you only cared about your brother! Arthur! We all would have waited and taken our time to reach your heart but your brother forced us, he forced us to realise that there aren't just a couple of us … you have no idea how many nations you've taken down. And you're brother is like a wall preventing us from reaching you! Why can you not … why is he … why …" Vladimir's yelling turned to angry sobs as he too dropped to the floor.

"This can only end once you pick someone, Arthur." Lukas suddenly spoke up in the tensed silence of the room.

"P-Pick someone? What the bloody … I'm not … Is all this a game to you?!" Arthur growled in anger.

"Of course not! We've been serious the entire time!" Vlad growled back and grabbed Arthur's collar before pulling him into a forceful kiss.

Arthur felt his face heat up and the sharp fangs of Romania biting his lips, forcing them apart as he slipped his tongue in. Lukas was the one to interrupt them as he pulled Arthur away from the hungry Romanian.

"Is that serious enough for you, your majesty?" Vladimir huffed, and Arthur almost thought he saw tears beginning to gather in his friend's red eyes.

* * *

The weight of reality suddenly hit the Briton and he gently forced himself away from Lukas. He approached the huffing vampire and hugged him. Romania's eyes widened in shock and tears really did fall out. But not of frustration this time. Those tears were of painful understanding. Arthur let his friend cry in his shoulder, unable to heal his heart. He couldn't. He really wished he could but …

He lifted Romania's head up and pressed a chaste apologetic kiss on the thin lips of the vampiric nation before whispering in his ear.

"I'm sorry."

Still holding Romania, Arthur's eyes turned to Lukas but the fairy man was gone. Vanished.

"I'm sorry." Arthur whispered to the empty air as he could hear in his mind the screaming of pain of the Nordic.

"I'm sorry." A tear rolled down Arthur's cheek.

"Arthur? Are you alright? I heard shouting coming from your room? Is everything alright?" Scott's concerned voice resonated and Arthur jumped to his feet in reflex, his eyes locked on the closed door behind which his brother stood.

"Y-yes! Everything's fine! Just a nightmare!"

"Nightmare? … Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll tell you tomorrow." Arthur tried to force his voice not to crack. Apparently he failed as his brother noticed the uneasy ring of it.

"Arty … you crying?"

"I'm fine! Go back to bed already!" Arthur turned around back to his friend but the Romanian was gone, just as fast as the Nordic.

"I'm alright … really." Arthur whispered in a hitched breath, feeling painful guilt weighting his heart.

"… Alright. Remember to close your window." Scott mumbled and left.

Arthur snapped his head once more towards the door, almost shocked at his brother's words. Did he know? Did he hear his friends? Or was he just saying that? Sometimes, Arthur could never know what went on in his brother's mind. He could never tell what his brother knew or not. Of all the people in the world, it was true that Arthur's heart held too much space for his siblings that there is little left for others.

_Do you know how much people would give to be called your lover?_

His lover. Even that would not be right. Arthur could not choose a lover. He couldn't. Because even if he did pick someone right now, this _'lover'_ would only come second to his brother. And a lover should always be first in one's heart. Arthur could not stop this. No matter how much he wished he could. He couldn't. His brother came first. He wasn't his lover. He was so much more than that. Someone beyond hate and beyond love. His big brother.

"I'm sorry …" Arthur mumbled in the quietness of the room.

* * *

In the neighbouring room, Scott Kirkland stared blankly at his ceiling, listening through the wall at his brother's voice. Arthur was crying. And it was his fault. He'll fix this. Somehow he will. Because as a big brother, Scott could not allow himself to be the cause of his brother's tears. He would not forgive anyone who made his little brother cry, including himself.

Bloody great ... now he felt guilty for trying to protect his wee brother from those wankers!


End file.
